Starting out on London Time
by Babatomyfriends
Summary: Mondler's beginnings - the next level after the big reveal. Now officially a couple they're starting out to whereever their journey will take them, and still remain firmly on London Time. Sequel to "Stuck on London Time", still strictly canon/no AU, with as many extra scenes and smut as I'll be able to think of. Enjoy! And if you like what you read, let me know and make my day.
1. Big Zero Gravity Moon Steps

So now it was official. Irreversibly, undoubtedly, unmistakably official. They were now officially a couple, their status revealed and known to all and everybody around. Well, everybody in the group that was. Chandler didn't think Monica had had time to tell her parents yet and so far he had felt no particular urge to inform his, especially since he couldn't imagine they'd really be interested. So everybody that actually took interest in this particular matter. Which was already more than enough as far as he was concerned.

Because it still felt so strange, even five days after that fateful Valentine's Day. Unsettling and almost disturbing. While their relationship had still been secret he had never really made the effort to imagine what it would be like once they were revealed. He'd just assumed that once the shock of the revelation died down it wouldn't be such a big deal anymore. They would just be a couple, a normal couple spending their free time together and everyone would know that they were together and that would be that. It would never have occurred to him that to get there would take more than a day or two at most. But here they were, the week following their reveal almost done, one day after their five months anniversary for crying out loud, and it STILL seemed a big deal. Too big for his liking.

If only … If only their friends would stop staring and gawping each and every blessed time he and Monica kissed in front of them, or doing a double take and even frown if they just held hands. Or grin and nudge each other whenever one of them dared to look tired in the morning or, god forbid, yawn. At times it seemed to him as if none of the others would ever get over the surprise of seeing them together. It was especially enervating because he had constantly to remind himself that while he and Monica had been together now for five months last Thursday and this Friday already concluded their 22nd week together, and were thus feeling quite settled and comfortable in their relationship already, the fact that they were a couple seemed still brand hot news to everyone else in their lives, news they apparently were completely unable to wrap their heads around, let alone adjust to the sight of them cuddling and making out every now and then. He really couldn't understand it. Had it been quite that bad when Ross and Rachel had dated? Admittedly those two had handled things a little differently – okay, a lot differently – but that couldn't really be the reason Ross and Rachel had been regarded as an established couple barely 24 hours after they finally got together while he and Monica were still constantly oohed and aahed over sooo long after their coming out. Even by Ross. Or make that especially by Ross. It seemed really strange, considering his white-hot frothing-at-the-mouth anger on discovering them how ridiculously sappy and sentimental he would become now whenever he caught them making out or even just holding hands. The only thing that snapped him out of his moist-eyed emotionalism was any indication that they were going to have sex. Since it was a sure-fire thing to get him to beat a hasty retreat, it was fortunate that they never had to pretend their inclinations in that area whenever they did want to get rid of him.

Though in all fairness all that annoying fuss seemed a small price to pay for being able to be out in the open and not having to hide and sneak around anymore. He suspected that he would miss the excitement and the fun of going behind everyone's back and playing with fire a little, but it was all sooo worth it – to be with Monica whenever he wanted, hold her close, spend every night with her from evening to morning, go to sleep beside her knowing he wouldn't be roused again in the dead of night just to drag himself back to his own bed in time, to not having to plan for every stolen minute with the constant fear of being found out hanging over their heads, and most of all, to be able treat her like his girlfriend in front of the others instead of just a friend. It made all the difference in the world.

He'd just have to be a little more patient with his friends. Put up with their endless teasing, grin and bear their ceaseless ribbing every blessed time he and Monica took their leave of them to go to bed, ignore Ross' scowls and grimaces alternating with sentimental dog-eyes, and most of all try to rein in all the sarcastic retorts that kept trying to escape from his mouth. After all, it wasn't as if this would go on forever. He was quite sure that all the excitement was bound to die down soon. Maybe even after this weekend already. He just had to keep his cool and hope for the best. And enjoy the advantages that new level of their relationship offered. One of which – the major one as far as he was concerned – being the fact that they could now devote so much more time and energy to their sex life. Where during their secret period they had had to cram everything into a few stolen hours in the dead of the night most of the times which, though always thrilling and big fun had also been rather exhausting and stressful in the long run, they now had much more leisure to explore and satisfy each other's desires and appetites in much more comfort too. Like last night when they had celebrated their five month anniversary in his bedroom, long after the others had gone to sleep. He hadn't been able to stop thinking about it all the next day, and even now on late Friday afternoon when they were all joined together in their usual place in Central Perk to ring in the weekend, at least half of his mind was still taken up with those sweet memories.

" _Do you remember our last anniversary? The four month one?"_

" _Was that the one where we did it under the Christmas tree?"_

" _No! The one after that. When we remembered what had happened last year this time."_

" _Ah yes. When Phoebe had the triplets implanted –"_

" _And we switched apartments."_

" _Right. So?"_

 _Monica pulled a little closer to him, until she was lying halfway over him, her face so close to his own that he felt her breath on his cheeks every time she exhaled._

" _You told me that when you were back in your room, you had … fantasies. About me."_

" _Oh yeah. Guilty as charged. What about them?"_

 _She smiled widely. "I'd like to know more. You know, more … details." She brushed her mouth across his and he immediately tried to capture her lips and elongate the kiss._

" _What … what details?"_

" _Well, you know, how it went down in them. What actually happened. I mean, maybe it would be fun, if we could sort of – reenact them?"_

 _Chandler blinked up at her. "Seriously? My fantasies? We're talking about my wet dreams of last year?"_

" _Yeah!" She pulled away slightly, her eyes sparkling. "We're already in the right room, so – why not?"_

" _Oh god. Um. Okay, but … I'm not sure I remember them really. It's been so long … and my sex life's hasn't exactly been the same since either, you know … "_

" _Just give it a try. You said you'd been thinking of me being naked in this room …"_

 _Chandler let his hands slide down her back, cupping her breasts while he grinned at her goofily._

" _Oh that. Yeah ... I think it's coming back to me now … Let's see … My favorite version was the one where I imagined that you had gotten so used to sleeping here that you would come back here late at night as if this still was your room and never notice your mistake."_

" _And you would be there?"_

" _Yes. I'd be asleep, but I would wake up when you came in. And I would never get the chance to say anything because you were already taking your clothes off."_

" _Oooh, I like that! All my clothes?"_

 _He let his hands travel down to the small of her back, cupping her buttocks and rubbing his thumbs over her hip bones. "Yes. Quickly, but not too fast. And I'd be still sleepy, wondering if it was a dream, and if it would freak you out too much if I said anything, or if I would just have to let it happen … And I would already be on this side of the bed or else scoot over a bit, just before you took up the covers and lay down beside me."_

" _Mmmh. Like this?" She lay on her back again, her arms demurely crossed over her breasts. Chandler got up on one elbow and drew the covers over both of them._

" _Umm – I think you had your back turned to me at first."_

" _Ooooh! Like this? And then?"_

" _I'd come closer … and I'd notice you touching yourself –"_

" _Mmmh, nice!"_

" _And you would breathe hard, and kinda moan, and I would reach out for you and put my hand on your hip – like that, and kinda stroke you, very softly …" He let his hand slide down her thigh and up again over the smooth curve of her hip, cupping her pelvis bone while stretching his fingers towards her groin, his fingertips gently feeling for her labia where her own hand was already busy._

" _Ah… um … go on …"_

" _I'd get sort of close, snuggle up behind you and bend over you – you still wouldn't notice me, not really, not until I did this –", which was trailing kisses down her neck and shoulders to her breasts where he gently sucked on her nipples, "- then you'd start a little, and try to turn around, but I wouldn't let you. I'd hold you tight-", his finger had found her clitoris now and pressed down on it gently. They were both breathing harder now and when he pushed his erect penis between her legs she withdrew her hand to allow him access and grabbed at it, squeezing it gently between her fingers._

" _Ummm … ahh … oh god … oh god … side- sideways, or …?"_

" _Well, sometimes … but mostly you, you would … ah, oh god – you turn on your stomach, and – ah, ah, aaahh – I'd do you from behind –", but she was already rubbing her buttocks frantically against his abdomen while he was still trying to hold her down and enter her at the same time without crushing her. It took some more fumbling and shifting, until they adjusted to each other and found their rhythm. He pressed his face against her neck, kissing and gently biting down on her shoulder while she panted and moaned under him, pumping her hips against his and softly screaming every time he pushed into her –_

"Earth to Chandler! Helloo-ouu! Anybody home?!"

He did his best not to appear too startled, smiling vaguely at Phoebe. "Yes? Have we met?"

She grinned at him. "I bet I could tell exactly what you were thinking of right now!"

He tried to adopt a shocked expression. "You do?!"

"Of course! It's written all over your face!"

"Really? Huh. But then I guess it really could become a real problem. All those computers crashing …"

It worked. At least Phoebe was taken aback for as long as three seconds or maybe four. But on the other hand Monica now frowned up at him.

"What?"

"Computers …?"

He tried to look innocent. "That Y2K problem? Wasn't that what you meant?"

"What's 'why too – what?"

"Y2K. Year 2000. That's when all those computers will crash if they don't get reprogrammed. It's a huge problem at my work. Didn't you hear about it?"

Now they all exchanged puzzled glances and shrugs, and he found it hard to maintain his innocent façade when he really would have liked nothing better than to gloat and bask over his victory. But there was Monica to consider – Monica, who now looked at him searchingly with an almost undetectable smile and then gently nudged him in the ribs with her elbow.

"Oh, yes, I think there was this computer geek coming in and doing something with my computer …," Rachel said vaguely. "That could have been it." She turned to Ross who had just come in. "Ross, do you know about this Waytookey –"

"Y2K!" he prompted.

"Well, not directly, since I'm on sabbatical –," everyone groaned and rolled their eyes "but I read about it, of course. Do you think they can fix it in time?"

"So a few computers crash, what's the big deal?"

"Joey …!"

Ross opened his mouth to put him right and then changed his mind and headed for the bar instead to get some coffee. Chandler turned his head again only to meet Phoebe's pensive stare.

"So, what you're telling us is that you haven't been thinking about Monica at all in the last ten minutes? I find that hard to believe."

"Who said I wasn't? Of course I was thinking about Monica."

"Oh? But you said –"

"I guess I lied." He pulled Monica closer to him to kiss her on her head while Phoebe spluttered and then sighed resignedly. And when Monica smiled at him and leaned in for a kiss, it set off everybody oohing and awing once more to the same old tune and dance.

"Oooh, you guys! You look so … so cute!"

Chandler leaned back against the backrest, sighing deeply. Nope, didn't look like there'd ever be an end to this. The way it looked, it was likely to go on until next New Year's Eve when all the computers were bound to crash. Maybe that would distract them – although he wasn't prepared to bet on it.

Now Ross returned with his coffee. "Hey, you know what I just realized? If you guys ever have kids …"

That jolted him out of his gloomy musings. "Whoa-whoa-whoa! We're having kids?!"

Kids? As in babies? Who had factored that into the equations now? What had got into everybody?

"I call Godfather!"

Ross stared at Joey indignantly. "You can't just **call** Godfather. Don't you think her brother should be Godfather?"

"Sure, if you cared enough to call it first ..." Joey said sulkily.

Now Monica cut in, bless her. He had been beginning to think everybody was conspiring against him. "Guys, you're a few steps ahead of us!"

"Yeah, big zero gravity moon steps!" Oh the relief. As long as Monica took no part in this madness, they could all indulge in their fantasies as much as they wanted. Although he had to draw the line at babies -

"Oh! Oh, I just thought of the greatest wedding gift to get you!"

And weddings. Good sweet lord, now they were already thinking about weddings too? What was it that had women constantly think of weddings?

"Ooh, I'll go in on that with you! I couldn't think of anything." Phoebe too? Oh please, something to distract them now, before Monica changed her mind and started to chime in, just anything – ah, thank god. There was Joey's date, Katie, a tiny and rather cute girl, and, as it turned out, with a rather outgoing temperament.

"Ohh, I **love** Chinese! How did you know I love Chinese?!" And while she enthused about Joey's choice of food she kept pummeling him in the chest with her tiny little fists before she left for the bathroom. As Joey sat down again looking a bit shaken, Chandler sensed a smidgen of hope.

"She is so cute! You could fit her right in your little pocket!"

"She could fit in that little pocket inside the pocket." Both Phoebe and Rachel seemed quite taken with the little whirlwind, but Joey was starting to look decidedly uncomfortable.

"I don't know. I mean I like her a lot, and she's really nice, but…"

"But what?" Monica asked curiously, but Chandler had already realized the problem. He knew how much Joey hated to be pummeled and hit.

"She … she keeps punching me." That made them all laugh.

"In that cute, little, sweet way she just did?"

"Hey, it's a lot harder than it looks! Okay?" Now Joey was actually squirming. "She's – she's hurting me."

Under different circumstances Chandler might have commiserated with his roommate, but he just couldn't resist the temptation of turning the attention away from him and Monica, and besides, Joey was due a bit of teasing. Overdue in fact. Monica seemed to think so as well.

"I know what you need, you need a bodyguard. Hey Ross, what is Ben doing after preschool?"

"Hey listen, come on, Joey is having a problem!" Now Chandler was actually enjoying himself. "A little girl is beating him up!"

"Aww, Joey, come here." Rachel tenderly took his hand. "Look honey, I know this must be really, really difficult for you and I - Oh, I'm sorry. Am I hurting you?"

Fortunately Katie came back just as Joey seemed ready to explode. As he got up Chandler saw him deftly dodging a hearty cuff aimed at his midriff and again almost felt bad for his friend. But not for long.

Babies. Weddings. What in the world would even make them think of such things in relation to Monica and him? As long as Rachel and Ross had been together, no one in the group had even considered that they could get married any time soon, let alone teased them about it. Except Ross of course, who'd only succeeded in freaking Rachel out as soon as he brought it up. So why were they all doing it to him and Monica now and so soon after they'd revealed themselves as a couple? A couple who was so obviously still in the trial stage, fumbling its way around all the hurdles and pitfalls of maintaining their relationship from day to day, week to week. Hell, they weren't even living together yet. Why was everybody in such a frigging rush?

"Earth to Chandler ..." Monica said softly and smiled widely when he started up, jolted out of his broodings. When he looked down at her, into her steady blue gaze, he suddenly felt vastly relieved. Of course it was all just teasing. Just a bit of revenge for all the secrecy and sneaking around in the last five months, nothing more. The usual idiocies of that close knit group of theirs to whom teasing and ribbing had become an essential part of their interaction. Because who in their right mind could really picture them as a married couple with kids already, and so soon?

Not he for sure.


	2. A Few Steps Ahead

Monica couldn't remember when she had last felt this happy. So intensely perfectly happy and carefree, and for such a long time on top of that. It felt … strange. Wonderful, yes, intoxicating, energizing – but strange for all that, almost alien. As if it was dangerous to feel that way, to give in to that exhilaration, like it was forbidden fruit and too much of it could harm her. Which was ridiculous, complete rubbish, and yet – and yet.

So yes, she was happy, almost deliriously so, but at the same time it totally freaked her out.

Yes, the time to rejoice and enjoy the fruit of her labors had finally come. Yes, the secrecy was over and she and Chandler could now be officially a couple, be in an official relationship, be together always for everyone to see and share. That they had been together for five months already worked in their favor too – after all it meant that their relationship had already gone through its first teething troubles and trials and survived, even emerged stronger and more solid than before. Considering all the crises they had weathered in that time there should be no reasons left to doubt or even fear that anything could jeopardize what they had built up so carefully and painstakingly.

So why was she still so freaked?

So far it seemed as if everything went exceedingly well for them. Here they were, almost at the end of the first week after the big reveal and still nothing was marring their happiness. The group seemed to have mostly accepted their new status, even if they were apt to tease them about it rather more than she would have liked. Still, that was only to be expected after their long secrecy and she didn't really mind. True, Chandler seemed a little annoyed about all the hype they created around them – this afternoon at the coffeehouse had been particularly bad with all of them starting to babble about weddings and kids so suddenly - but though she had pretended to agree with him she had also secretly thought that it really did him a world of good to be at the receiving end of the joking and teasing for once. And it wasn't as if this could go on forever. Another week at most, maybe two, but hardly more. And it could have been a lot worse. Like, say Ross yelling at them and throwing a hissy fit every time they kissed and/or held hands instead of that grudging acceptance or sometimes even downright sappiness. Or running off to tell their parents all about it. The very thought made her shudder. Yes, it was high time she let her parents know that she was in a serious relationship. Finally. There was no reason why she shouldn't tell them and every reason why she should do so. But she felt that it should be done at the right time and place and so far there had been no such opportunity. But there would be, she was quite sure of that. Quite soon too. After all, it wasn't as if revealing themselves to her parents would somehow endanger their relationship. She was a grown independent woman who could date whoever she liked.

And yet she couldn't shake off that feeling of foreboding, of a sense that something was about to break, a crisis looming ahead. And though she didn't want to admit it, deep down she had a pretty good idea about the shape it would take. She had foreseen it for a long time now, almost from their earliest beginnings on when they had still been in complete confusion about the way things had gone for them and what had developed between them so unexpectedly. Because sooner or later the time would come when Chandler would start to think about their future. Not that that would be a bad thing per se, on the contrary, she wanted him to do so, but without any influence or, god forbid, pressure from outside, nothing to make him feel manipulated and cause him to panic. She still hoped that the idea of their now being a couple to face whatever the future would bring together would be enough to hold all those demons that had beset him in the past at bay and ensure his trust in her and the strength of their relationship. Their love.

And to make sure as much as possible that nothing that she said or did would lead him to jump to any wild conclusions, she had taught herself to live in the moment and enjoy every second of each day, forbidding herself any thought about their future life together – any thought about living together, getting married, being a family … Because it was still too early for that. Way too early. Even though they had been together for five months now, it still seemed to her that they had barely left their honeymoon stage behind and were still learning how to be a real couple, inching their way towards a goal that seemed so far ahead that it couldn't even be contemplated. And she was okay with that. Very much so. At this point she only wanted to think about the present and let the future take care of itself. If her thoughts sometimes did take her a few steps ahead, well, surely there was no harm in that? As long as she didn't dwell on them and brought herself back to the present again at once.

And right now the present happened to be the time when she had finally finished a long and grueling late shift, very late even for a Friday evening and that had gotten even later when a group of guests not only had arrived almost an hour after their appointed time but chosen to stay on long after the other guests – and most of her colleagues - had left. So it wasn't around midnight or even 1 a.m. but closer to 2 a.m. when she arrived at her building and wearily climbed the stairs to apartment 20. It had been a long time since she had finished work that late, more than a year at least. When she had started at Allessandro's, she had of course felt obligated to put in more hours than necessary, never leaving before she had made sure everything was shipshape (Monicashape rather), even spending the night there once when her prankster colleagues thought it would be fun to lock the door to the wine cellar while she was still in it. They hadn't foreseen that she would pass the time counting the bottles and checking the numbers with the storage records, which had resulted in the detection of some major discrepancies and the firing of two of the worst pranksters among her staff. But that had been over a year ago, when she had still been single and no boyfriend had been waiting for her at home.

On the stairs she had still wondered if Chandler had given up on her and gone to bed already, but then she opened her door to see him curled up on the living room sofa with a blanket, watching TV. For a moment she thought he had fallen asleep, so it came almost as a shock to her when he turned around and then nimbly vaulted right over the sofa, blanket and all, to rush to her as she closed the door and took off her coat.

"Heyy! There you are!" As he took her into his arms he managed to enfold her in the blanket at the same time, and all of a sudden she realized how cold and bone weary she was.

"Umm … I'm sorry, they just wouldn't leave – ah… um, were you worried?"

"The thing that wouldn't leave, huh? Yeah, I was. I was beginning to think an oil sheik had kidnapped you to be his private chef. And more. Ummm … what's that? Let's see, I'm detecting – um, mussels? Oysters? Oooh, let me guess, lobster?"

"Yeah. You wouldn't believe how many lobsters they ordered. And the mess they left. I found a claw hanging from a curtain."

Chandler pulled her tighter and started to snuffle at her neck. "Mmmh … that smells like your special Minestrone … "

"Yeah, that too. I really need a shower." But when she tried to pull away, he immediately tightened his grip, pressing her even closer against him. "Hey! Aw … come on, let me go. Um, tell you what, if you're good I'll only wear my towel to bed."

He immediately let her go, grinning widely. "Really?!"

"Yeah, I promise, but only if you're good and wait for me here. No peeking!"

"Aw." But of course he insisted on walking her to the bathroom door, stealing a few more kisses on the way and only let go of her when she threatened to shut the door on his fingers. Then she tore out of her clothes and hurried through the shower as fast as she could, making do with a cursory shampooing and a squirt of shower gel, just enough to sluice off the sweat and kitchen smell with. The hot water and the thought of Chandler waiting for her to reappear in her towel induced her with new energy, her weariness almost forgotten. She toweled herself quickly but vigorously, combed her hair and brushed her teeth, and finally, just to shut up the ever insistent small voice in the back of her head that always sounded so much like her mother, applied a bit of night cream, before taking up the big towel at last and wrapping it securely around her. At the very last moment, with her hand already on the doorknob, she remembered to put in her diaphragm. Though she was quite sure that nothing could happen – her period was due in less than a week – she firmly believed in not tempting fate.

Chandler had gone back to the sofa to watch some more TV, but he turned it off as soon as she opened the bathroom door and hurried over to her, making a big show of ogling her and panting with his tongue hanging out. They met in front of the big window and when he wrapped his arms around her an idea, born from a memory sparked in her brain, making her breath hitch.

"What? What is it?" He was already slipping one hand under the towel to feel her up, making her squirm and press closer against him.

"Nothing, I just – remembered something."

"What? That Ross is across the street? You think he's still awake?"

"No!" But still she had to check, almost in spite of herself. But her brother's apartment was completely dark and the curtains drawn.

"No, it's just – you remember when Phoebe had moved out and I was so depressed and you came over when I had just taken a bath –"

"Yeah. Didn't we talk about that once already, right at the beginning?"

"Yes, we did. But I just remembered something else. You know, when we talked about your fantasies last night …"

"Oh I see. You want to know if seeing you in that towel sparked off some fantasies with me back then already?"

"No, not really – but, um, now that you mention it, well, did it?"

He grinned down at her while his hands kept bunching up the towel on her back and rubbing it lovingly over her skin. "Well … it might have. Why? Do you want to reenact those too?"

"Not exactly. I mean, yes, but not yours."

He gaped at her. "What? You? You had – but you said …"

"I know. I was really sure that I never had any fantasies about you, but now –"

"Yeah?"

"I just remembered. It wasn't exactly a fantasy – not like yours. But … yeah, I thought about this later, you know, how you held me and stroked me –"

"Stroked your towel you mean."

She slapped him playfully. "We don't need to do this, you know."

"No, no, please! Don't stop. So yeah, I was stroking your – um, you – and then … what?"

She nestled against him, wrapping her arms around him and resting her head on his chest just like she had back then, remembering what it had been like. He had been thinner then, and had still sported that awful goatee, and his shirt had smelled of fabric softener and slightly of beer where a little had spilled while he had watched Baywatch with Joey. It had felt so good to hold him and get held by him, even back then when any thoughts about a change of their relations would have never even entered their heads, so good she just couldn't bear to let him go again. And then, as she felt him dreamily stroking (her) the towel she had wondered, in an idle, half asleep speculative kind of way, what would happen if somehow the towel would loosen a bit, slide down over her back and then over her breasts too and reveal her body to him, let her be naked there and then … and for one moment, one short and fleeting moment her breath had hitched and she had felt a delicious tingling creep up her spine.

"Then I thought, what if I had somehow … lost that towel?"

She felt him start in surprise as he stared at her.

"Um. Oh god. That would have been –"

"Embarrassing? Or exciting?"

He grinned. "Terrifying."

"Really?"

"Oh totally. Yeah, back then I would probably have run as fast as I could, keeping my eyes shut all the way, and probably fallen over your sofa too."

"Aw. You wouldn't have gotten my towel back for me first?"

"Well – maybe later. In my dreams."

"Huh. Well, that's what I imagined too. Later, in my dream." She grinned as he almost gaped at her, swallowing visibly.

"... and?!"

"And ... then we would have both bent over at the same time and bumped our heads a bit, and I would have grabbed the towel, and you would have apologized, but also tried to sneak a peek …"

"Wow. That's actually more like it now ..." Suddenly she felt his fingers probe at the place where the corner of the towel was folded under itself, holding it up around her. "But was that really – exciting for you?"

"Oh yeah."

"Hum. Okay …" Sliding one finger under the towel he gave it a slight tug and succeeded in loosening it at once. When she instinctively tried to retain it, he caught hold of her hands until all of it had dropped to the floor, then crouched down before her in one fluid movement. Before she had time to get down herself he had already gathered up the towel and held it up in front of him, bringing it up against her thighs and hips and grinning up at her. She took a deep breath and closed her eyes, holding on to his shoulders as he gently started to caress her with the towel, stroking and kneading her hips and buttocks, the back of her thighs, the small of her back, and then brought his head forward until she felt his breath on her abdomen, his lips on her navel and slowly moving downwards as he trailed soft kisses on her skin until he reached her mound, her labia … Only when her fingers clenched on his shoulders and she nearly lost her footing because her knees somehow wouldn't obey her anymore, she started to become aware of herself again and she realized that she was actually standing naked in her living room for everyone to see, and with Chandler on his knees before her too, giving her head. What if anyone saw them, or Rachel woke up? For a short moment she almost froze in shock, then the absurdity of the situation caught up with her and made her giggle helplessly. Chandler looked up from what he was doing, and, grinning broadly, got to his feet again and began to steer her gently but insistently towards her bedroom, still holding the towel up between them and rubbing her back and buttocks with it while she held on to his shoulders and drew his head down to kiss him. Once through the door he kicked it shut behind them and urged her towards the bed, breathing heavily now. She felt his erection poking her abdomen through the towel and started to claw at his t-shirt and boxers, almost seething with desire now. They arrived at her bed and she let herself fall on it backwards, arms and legs spread wide invitingly. But instead of getting on top right away Chandler put the towel over her first, then hovering over her he continued to rub her with it, kissing every inch of her that wasn't covered with it. It made her howl and thrash around under him with impatience. At last he was kneeling between her legs, letting her fondle and squeeze his warm, quiveringly erect penis while he stimulated her even further with his mouth on her nipples and two fingers slipped inside her and his thumb teasing her clit. When he finally let go and got into position to enter her, the towel was still caught between them, and she marveled at the sensation of the soft fabric bunching up between their bodies. As he pushed inside her they kissed deeply, entwining their tongues while she arched her back, clinging to him as hard as she could and as always feeling as if everything in her tried to grasp and clutch him and suck him even deeper into her, delighting in the soft slippery friction of his thrusts. Dimly she heard the bed rattle and squeak in time with their passionate pounding and thumping, their breathless, urgent panting and moaning and the almost overpowering racing of her heart, her blood pumping in her ears. When she reached her orgasm it seemed to her that everything went dark around her for a moment, hot and pulsating and completely overwhelming. Then it was over and she felt herself relax under him, limb by limb as they both seemed to almost float on the aftermath, spent and exhausted, but happy. So wonderfully happy.

And though she had sworn to herself that she would strive to live in the present, enjoy the moment, the traitorous thought crept in once more and flashed across her brain before she could shake it off.

If only it could always be like this.

Always. Forever.


	3. A Big Gesture

Why was it that every time he felt the most safe and secure that the rug was pulled from under his feet? Here he had been, sharing a quick lunch and some indulgent amusement at Ross' 'principles' with Rachel, and feeling rather relieved too that there finally was something to distract his ex-roommate from waxing sentimental over their relationship, when Rachel managed to upset his newly found equilibrium with just one casual remark.

"And that crazy party animal will be your brother-in-law ...!"

Yeah, right. He liked teasing as much as the next man, but this was really taking it too far.

"Very, very funny, but don't say things like that in front of Monica. I don't want you putting any ideas in her head."

"Umm, Chandler, you **do** realize that those ideas are probably already in Monica's head …"

"Wh-wh-why?!" How could that be when in all that time she had never even breathed one word on that subject?

"Well, because she loves you and because you love her."

"Yeah, so, what's that supposed to mean?!"

"Hey, Chandler, don't freak out! I'm telling you something you already know! Come on, she broke up with Richard because he didn't want to have babies."

Great, just when he'd thought that this was ancient history. Ancient and dead.

"And she's a woman, and she's almost 30, and you know - it's Monica ..!"

That was when he realized that it was really one thing to know or at least be aware of something without ever letting it surface and quite another to hear it stated so calmly by someone else.

"I don't see it that way. Okay? Because, I see two Monicas, the one that was my friend, who lived across the hall, and wanted to have a lot of babies and then the new Monica, who I just started to date. Now, who's to say what **she** wants?! I'm right. I'm right. Am I right?"

And yet another thing to realize that he had never really tried to think about what Monica might want. Let alone spared any thoughts at all as to what their future could be like.

"Oh, absolutely." Rachel's token agreement didn't improve matters and he found himself defending his lost cause even more wildly.

"Okay. An-an-and you know I'm completely different from Richard anyway. Because he's an eye doctor, and I don't wear glasses …!"

"No, you're right, you are absolutely right. I mean that makes, that makes everything different."

"Okay. It's not different at all, is it?"

"Not unless different means the same …"

That's when he admitted defeat. Of course it wasn't different at all. And of course he wasn't right. He knew that, and not just deep down where he could – and usually did - ignore it, but in the back of his head too, from where the knowledge was spreading out now like the water from a flooding river until it arrived at the levels of his conscience where it couldn't be ignored and suppressed any more, let alone held back.

He knew, had always known, that Monica wanted babies. And marriage, but maybe babies even more than marriage, or, most probably, both and at the same time too. And he had known too that their relationship, the fact that they were together, hadn't changed all that even a little bit. No matter how much he tried to pretend otherwise, she was still the same Monica, the woman who had nearly gone into hysterics watching a stream of babies passing by in the hospital when Ben was born, the same woman who had at one time seriously considered getting pregnant from an anonymous donor at a sperm bank, and who melted into a puddle as soon as she even got within 5 yards of a baby. He had listened to her tearful descriptions of childhood weddings to Ross in London (even thrown her a box of tissues) and had witnessed countless times how, when her mother was giving her hell about her unmarried status she always seemed to silently agree with her under the thin defensive posture. And of course the last straw, the fact that clinched it all, was that she had ended her relationship with Richard because he didn't want children. It was even the more damning, because it meant, ultimately, that she would end her relationship with him too, once it turned out that he didn't want kids either. Or even marriage.

Right there was the problem. It wasn't that marriage per se was bad. Or babies, god forbid. Or even the two together – they seemed to go together anyway, at least usually, or even caused each other to happen, and both ways too.

But what if marriage and babies were more important to Monica than their relationship, than him?

It seemed absurd and over simplistic, but what if Rachel was right? " _And she's a woman, and she's almost 30, and you know it's Monica …!"_ Monica who was under constant pressure from her mother, who presumably had heard her biological clock ticking since she had turned twenty, and who had probably been planning her wedding already when she got old enough to walk or at least toddle down the aisle. With a pillow case on her head. Was it really so inconceivable that her life-long goals would not have priority over him, her boyfriend and – probably – designated husband and father of her flock of babies?

Not for the new Monica obviously, the girl he had dated now for five months and who had changed everything for him, turned his life completely around. But for the Monica he used to know – or thought he knew right until the moment she knocked on his door in London? And that he now had – finally - realized were one and the same after all? Because how different could they really be, wishful thinking aside?

 _Not unless different means the same …_ Rachel's last observation before she had left, and somewhat hurriedly too, mumbling something about needing to change, and that he kept chewing over in his mind while he cleared their lunch things away. She was right. There was no difference. Monica was still the same and it was high time he acknowledged that. And to prepare himself for the moment when she would show it to him so the shock wouldn't be that great and he would be able to stand up to her.

 _Since when have you been able to stand up to her?_ Guy #1 sniggered in his head. _Except when you're you-know-what –_

 _But in all that time she never once said a word about all that …_ Guy #2 said doubtfully.

 _Of course not. She knows it would make you run like hell._

But I maybe I won't run!

 _Really? Well, maybe now you won't. Or not as fast. And maybe now she will say something. Now, or soon._

Chandler stopped pacing the living-room and closed his eyes. Alright. Alright. We'll see about that. If she says something now, anything, even a tiny little hint that she's only with me because she wants marriage and babies, anything that shows that all this time she's only been making sure she's got me hooked and trapped like a frog in a pot of water she's now heating gradually so as to let him adapt to the heat and not jump out again before he was done …

 _ **What then?**_ Both guys almost screamed in his head which made Chandler groan and clamp his hands over his ears as if to shut out his thoughts. Or the two guys, which amounted to the same thing anyway. It didn't work, but instead had him completely miss out on Monica's entrance, so that her presence only registered when she wrapped her arms around him from behind, laughing when he jumped in shock and just in time bit back a screech.

"Hey, what's going on? What've you got in your head?"

Turning around he took her in his arms, his body fitting itself into hers almost automatically. "Um – why, you of course? What else? There's nothing else in my head anymore now. Only you."

While she cuffed him and smiled indulgently he also noticed a slight blush that told him she at least half believed him.

"You're back early" he said after they broke their kiss again for lack of air.

"Yes! We had a burst pipe and the restaurant's closed until Tuesday."

"Wow, and this means –"

"Yes! We can go out tonight! Or tomorrow!"

"Or tonight AND tomorrow!" But at this her face fell a little. "What?"

"Oh, nothing, it's just that I promised Rachel I would go out with her sometime soon – you know we haven't done anything for so long. And she's been so good about that, but I think – well, it's time we did something. You don't mind, do you?"

"Me? No. Actually I need to look after Joey a bit. Can't let him grow up all on his own, can I?" He steered her over to the Barcalounger and settled on it with her on his lap.

"But he's got – what's her name? That punching girl."

He guffawed. "Yeah, like that's going to last. As soon as she'll give him a black eye, she's out of the picture."

"But she's so tiny!"

He tightened his arms around her. "Oh, the tiny ones are the worst!"

"Ha! What about me? I'm tiny too!"

"You're the worst of all actually. There's no escape from you –", he kissed her to stop her protest and after a short struggle she gave up and relaxed against him, stretching out over him and snuggling close as their combined weight pushed the backrest lower until they were almost horizontal. He let his hands roam over her back and shoulders, idly feeling her up with one thigh pushed between her legs while his last sentence still echoed in his head. No escape. No escape … not that he wanted to escape of course. But what if his jest turned out to be true?

"Mmmh … this is so nice … " Now she was nuzzling at his neck while her hands slid over his chest and stomach, trying to find a way under his shirt, and he felt himself reacting to her almost automatically. While a part of his mind already calculated if they had enough time left for a good long session in his bedroom or if they had to make do with a quickie right here on this chair, the rest was still worrying at the issue that Rachel had inadvertently brought up and that still refused to subside again.

"Isn't this great? Couldn't it just stay like this forever?"

His eyes snapped open at that. There it was, she'd said it. Stay like this forever. Of course it could have a completely different meaning for her, but still –

"Chandler! Couldn't you just stay here forever?"

And now she even wanted confirmation of that too. Na-ah, not like that. Time to get out of this pot before the water got too hot. If only to clarify some matters once and for all.

Taking a deep breath Chandler let her go and heaved himself up. "Yeah, here, somewhere else, you know where - where ever …"

Monica blinked up at him confusedly. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm cool. Casual." Which of course he wasn't. Anything but in fact. Actually his heartrate was speeding up and he had trouble keeping his thoughts in line. That part of him was still hankering after more cuddling and making out didn't help.

"What-what are you doing?" Still confused, but with a suspicious frown line between her eyes as she got up too.

"I'm just hanging out. You know, having fun. You know with the girl that I'm seeing _casually_."

There it was, and if he was right she would take him up on this, tell him like it was, get it out in the open where it belonged …

"Man, I knew it! I **knew** you were going to do this!"

"What?!"

"Get all freaked out because everybody was talking and just joking around about marriage and stuff."

Freaked out? He hadn't even started yet. And how did she get hung up immediately on marriage?

"Well, you **do** want all that stuff, right?"

"Oh and **you** know what I want!"

"Yes! You want babies!" There, he'd said it. "You have baby fever!"

"I do **not** have baby fever!"

Denial? Really? In the face of all that evidence?

"Oh please, you are obsessed with babies! And - and marriage, and everything that's related to babies, and –", the cold fury in her eyes made him lose his thread for a moment "- and marriage!"

There had to be another thing, but right now he could only think of marriage and babies somehow, especially since he found it more and more difficult to face her.

"I've got an idea, why don't we turn down the heat on this pressure cooker?!"

"Have you lost your mind? Chandler, this isn't about me! This is about you and all your weird relationship commitment crap!"

Commitment? But this wasn't about commitment. He was so ready to commit. Commitment wasn't the problem, had never been a problem anymore since he had dealt with it all that time ago with Janice. Why did everybody think he couldn't commit?

He only wanted to know what he was letting himself in for.

"Nah-uh! I know you! Okay? I know the thoughts that you have in the head - in your head!"

"You don't know everything." He had expected something different, a weak denial followed by some substantial reassurance, anything but that angry disgusted scolding.

"Did you know that I'm going out with Rachel tonight instead of you? Hmm? And did you know that the only baby around here is you?! And did you know that I can't even look at you right now?!"

And just like that she was gone, the door falling shut behind her, without giving him time to retort, let alone hold her back. Running out on him before her anger got the better of her because once again instead of a calm and reasonable discussion he had let his fears run away with him and only succeeded in getting her hopping mad.

"Well, I did not know that …!"

Although he should have. Now that it was too late he realized of course where he had gone wrong. He should have waited a bit longer, maybe even until they were in bed together where the chances of her running out on him were much lower if only because she was naked. Instead he had once again rushed in blindly and completely screwed it up. Again.

As usual.

And to top it all, he had done so at the beginning of a long weekend where Monica for once didn't need to work, and all just because his ever present tendency to panic had once again gotten the better of him. Now it was on him to figure out what it would take to get Monica back again, into his arms and even more important, his life. He had an idea that it would not be all that easy this time. In fact, everything but easy. He would well be advised to get help.

.

.

As it turned out, Joey and Ross when he shared his woes with them in the Perk, had not as much to offer in terms of helpful, constructive advice as he had thought. He'd hoped that with Joey's knowledge of women and Ross's expertise in marital spats he'd be at least pointed in the right direction, but no such luck.

"It's gonna be okay, right? I mean she's not gonna leave me? This is, this is fixable ...?"

"Oh yeah, yeah, sure. Absolutely."

As if. "By me?!"

"Oh, no!" Ross shook his head sagely and for a short moment Chandler dearly wanted to strangle his self-appointed brother-in-law. Especially when Joey chimed in. What did they know? What could they know actually?

"Well, unless you make some kind of big gesture."

Wait, what? There could be something in that …

"Yeah, big!" Joey echoed. When the door was opened he looked around and immediately ducked.

"Uh-oh, shsh! The Mrs.!"

If there had been any time, he would cheerfully have strangled Joey too while he was at it. Maybe when this had blown over, he could try to persuade Monica to put a padlock on her fridge? But first things first. As Monica strode past them, her head held high, he tried in vain to catch her eye.

"Gunther, can I get a coffee –", and now she finally glanced at him, only to look away again immediately "- to go?"

Not very encouraging, but he had to try. Maybe there was still a way to resolve this, or just explain. At the very least she might point him in the right direction.

"Monica, could we please –"

But when she turned around, her face was shut, almost devoid of expression. "I'm still not done not wanting to talk to you."

"Just tell me what I need to do to make things right!" Now he started to get desperate. Clearly an apology wouldn't be enough.

"What?!"

"Well, that's what we do. You know, I-I mess up and then you tell me how to fix it and then I do and then you know you think I'm all cute again ..." In his desperate attempt to convince her of his seriousness he started to dance in place, only realizing how childish that looked when it was too late.

"Really?" All of a sudden Monica didn't look mad anymore. Just impatient – and very weary.

"I'm really tired of being your relationship tutor. You're gonna have to figure this one for yourself. All right? You know what?" Now her level blue gaze seemed to go right through him, searching and evaluating his innermost feelings. "If you're too afraid to be in a real relationship, then don't be in one."

And with that she walked out, serenely ignoring her brother and Joey who were cringing and grimacing on the couch, for all the world as if they had been the addressees of Monica's final challenge. And maybe they had, but if there was one thing she was right on the money it was this – that there was no one anywhere that he could turn to for help.

He was on his own.

.

Much later he was still in the Perk, first sitting on the couch and then, when a party of several people arrived, retreating to a table in a dark corner where he continued to nurse his coffee and stare at the wall, and getting more miserable the later it got. Joey and Ross had left soon after Monica, with rather lame excuses too like needing to get padded up before his date and getting ready for his awesome 'partay' respectively. Not that he really cared. This was his problem and his alone, to tackle in solitary and with growing frustration, so intent and wrapped up in it that he completely missed how Rachel hit or rather kicked on a solution to Joey's problem with his punching girlfriend that even six sweaters worn at once hadn't resolved.

Eventually the analytical part of his mind took over, when neither gloomy reminiscences nor futile shoulding got him anywhere. Alright, down to brass tacks.

Did he still want to be with Monica?

Hell, yes! He loved her. His life had no meaning without her. He wanted, needed to be with her at all costs.

Alright. So did he want to be in a "real" relationship with her?

Well … if that's what it took –

Took to what exactly? To make her love him again so he could be happy again?

Yes, but her too. Obviously he needed her to be happy too. They both had to be happy. Or it wouldn't work.

So what would it take to make her happy? What could he do?

 _Have babies with her_ , guy #1 whispered derisively in his head. _Lots and lots of screaming pooping babies …_

When Gunther ponderously cleared his throat behind his back, Chandler nearly fell out of his chair.

"Can I get you anything el – whoa!" Gunther deftly managed to catch the coffee cup just as started to fall from the table that Chandler had upset, but missed the spoon which clattered on the floor. When Chandler instinctively dove under the table to retrieve it, he only collided with Gunther who had bent over to do the same, bumping their heads together. In the ensuing tangle a small box suddenly fell from Gunther's shirt pocket and Chandler picked it up.

"Give me that! It's mine!" As Gunther got to his feet and held out his hand for the box, Chandler noticed that his face had turned an even deeper crimson than usual.

"Okay, okay, but – wait a moment …" Still on his knees he took a closer look at the box and frowned. "Is that – a ring?"

Gunther opened his mouth and then shut it again, swallowing hard. Curious now Chandler opened the box. It was indeed a ring, and quite a nice one too – not that he was an expert in that particular area.

"Is that an engagement ring?" he asked holding up the box. "Who's the lucky one?"

"Not you obviously …" Gunther retorted dryly and only then Chandler realized that he was still on his knees, holding out a ring to the embarrassed manager in full view of everybody in the coffeehouse, and hurriedly scrambled to his feet.

"Right. Sorry. But that's really a nice ring."

Gunther blinked bashfully. "Do you really think so?"

"Yes! So who is it for?" Gunther squirmed, blushing even more. "Oh. Oh, I see. Um."

Gunther swallowed again, working his mouth. "Do you think - you think she'll like it?"

"Um, ah, well I don't know really – but well, why not? I'm sure it will make her very happ-" he broke off there, his mind suddenly in a furious whirl. Gunther took the box from him and gazed at it wistfully.

"I'm not really sure it's right for her. It's all that I can afford, but she's so – sophisticated. What if she doesn't like it?"

"I guess you'll have to take your chances –", Chandler said absentmindedly and Gunther sighed again, pocketing the ring. "I know."

Something in his expression seemed a little odd and Chandler frowned.

"Gunther? Since when have you wanted to - "

"Two years and four months." Gunther beamed shyly. "And five days."

Chandler gaped at him. "Two years - - wow. Well … good luck then."

"Thanks." Gunther pocketed the ring securely. "I don't care how much time it takes. It's too important to hurry."

Too important. A big gesture. Taking a chance.

Yes, there was the answer, right there. It was bound to work. There was only just one small problem left ...

The manager had already turned away when Chandler jumped up, pushing the chair away so fast it almost toppled. "Um – Gunther, wait!"

"Yes?"

"Could you – um, that ring, could I maybe borrow it?!"


	4. A Lot Of Us Thinking

Monica stopped for a moment before entering the coffeehouse to take a deep breath and collect herself. She had come to the Perk hoping to find Chandler there, ideally alone too, and to see if there maybe was a chance to make up – or at least discuss the matter quietly. Quietly, calmly and reasonably, now that they both had had time to cool down, and hopefully before the news of their, well, fight? Too strong a word really since she'd stormed out before there was a chance for a real fight. Words? Differences? Whatever, before word got around and had them in a full blown fight or quite broken up already even if it had only been a fit of temper on her part. And of course that unbearable, annoying, incredible idiocy on his. Even thinking of his spluttering accusations got her hot under the collar again. Baby fever indeed! How in the world had that gotten into his head? Although she had a pretty good idea about that. And she would be well advised indeed to get that matter under control again before Rachel could spread the word around and have them married and expecting and maybe even divorced again too before the day was done.

And it was all so unfair too. There she had been, always doing her utmost to show Chandler how much she loved him, that he came first in everything for her now, that she was prepared to take however much time it took to build the basis of their relationship until it was strong enough to think of the future, in short, to prevent exactly such a thing from happening as had happened now. With the result that just a few poor jokes and thoughtless remarks from their friends got him to panic and throw a tantrum like a six-year-old. It was enough to make a grown woman cry. Obviously he hadn't even tried to think it through and, more important, ask her first instead of accusing her right out of only thinking about marriage and babies. If it hadn't been so sad, it would have been ludicrous really, since in all that time they had been together she had never allowed herself to utter those two words in his presence aloud, let alone think them. And if she really wanted babies, wouldn't she have gotten pregnant by now? God knew there had been opportunities enough to let an 'accident' happen, if she had been in that frame of mind, and it was even more infuriating to find that Chandler so readily thought her capable of that. If he had thought about it at all. This was what angered her the most, that by all appearances he hadn't given any thought to it at all.

But then she hadn't exactly given him time to think about it, let alone discuss it with her. Her temper had gotten the better of her, as always. Well, now that she had cooled down a little, and Chandler hopefully had come to his senses again enough to get his priorities straight, maybe there was still time to make amends.

However, as soon as she came into the coffeehouse, her hopes sank again. Yes, there was Chandler, but with Ross and Joey who immediately started up as soon as they caught sight of her, and with guilty expressions too – for all the world like schoolboys caught in a prank. Joey's warning "Sht! The Mrs.!" almost had her turn around on her heel and storm out again, leaving them to their foolishness. But Chandler had probably just tried to ask them for advice (more fool he) and she owed him a chance to show her that he had changed his mind. So, ignoring them as best as she could she walked to the counter to get a coffee, adding 'to go' when she saw Ross and Joey cringing and ducking out of the corner of her eye, and the hangdog look on Chandler's face when he scrambled up to confront her.

"Monica, could we please –"

As soon as she got a good look at his face she knew that it was no use. He wasn't ready, far from it. If she gave in now nothing would be resolved, only laid to rest for a short time to flare up again as soon as Chandler had time to let his insecurities and fears get the better of him.

"I'm still not done not wanting to talk to you." When she saw his face fall at that, something seemed to wrench at her gut, but she steeled herself.

"Just tell me what I need to do to make things right!"

"What?!" Really? Now he needed instruction for this? Maybe even a manual, in one syllable words too?

"Well, that's what we do. You know, I-I mess up and then you tell me how to fix it and then I do and then you know you think I'm all cute again ..."

And now he even started to hop up and down in his desperate attempt to win her over. Had she really done that? Tell him how to fix it? Then it was indeed high time he learned how to grow a pair and do it on his own. Or she would never hear the last of it.

"Really? I'm really tired of being your relationship tutor. You're gonna have to figure this one for yourself. All right? You know what?" She caught his gaze and held it, willing herself to get this through to him, to his innermost self, the Chandler she knew understood this and was ready to act his age and see reason as soon as he managed to break out of that immature emotional shell.

"If you're too afraid to be in a real relationship, then don't be in one."

And with that she turned her back on him and walked to the door, steadfastly ignoring her brother and Joey who were still cringing and grimacing on the couch. Once out of the door she continued to her building, grimly marching up the stairs and gritting her teeth against the tears that kept rising to her eyes.

A real relationship. They had that and they would continue to have it, she was sure about it. And if it should turn out that they hadn't – then it was no longer worth pursuing anyway.

It had to be perfect. It just had to be, no matter the costs. Or how much it hurt.

.

When Rachel finally came in with Joey tagging along, the two of them chatting and laughing about something they had accomplished in the coffeehouse, Monica was close to giving up. She had tried everything to distract herself and pass the time waiting for Chandler. Cleaning of course, at least everything that could be done without being too obvious about it, because that would tell Chandler immediately that she had been more nervous and upset than she had let on, and she didn't want that. So rather than vacuuming or scrubbing the bathroom she confined herself to ironing, doing (and redoing) the dishes, straightening the sofa and chairs (and the bookshelves, the desk, all the drawers, the refrigerator magnets …). It didn't really help and only served to get her more and more nervous by each minute that passed. And let the nagging voice in her head that kept haranguing her to give in and try to find Chandler and make up get louder and louder.

"Hi Mon! Mon? Hey, what's up? Where's Chandler - - what?! Joey!" Rachel irritatedly tried to shake off Joey who nervously tried to shush her. When Monica glared at him, he cringed.

"Um, Rache … they – they had a fight …!"

"WHAT? Why? Monica is this true?"

Monica shut the kitchen drawer she had just tidied (again) and turned to face her with a sigh. "Maybe."

"But ... but what did you fight about?" Yes, there it was, the tiniest hint in Rachel's voice, the way she tried a little too hard to appear absolutely clueless, and Monica decided to take a shot in the dark.

"Can't you guess? Didn't you talk to Chandler about babies?"

Bingo. Rachel's mouth fell open. "Well … I – I may have said something … in that connection – Stop it, Joey!" Joey rolled his eyes and moved away, muttering. "Oh my god, he freaked out, didn't he? Chandler freaked out? Oh god, I'm so sorry … But it's going to be alright, won't it? He's not going to – to -"

"Do what? Break up with me?"

"No! Why should he break up with you?"

"Why? You're asking me why? First you put all those ideas in his head, that all I can think of is marriage and babies and now you ask me why?"

"But how was I to know –"

"You didn't know? You're telling me you don't know Chandler? That this is all new to you? Really?"

"Monica, calm down!" Joey tried to go between them and winced when she turned on him, but held his ground. "He's not breaking up with you! On the contrary, he wants to fix this! He'll come around, you'll see!" Just then they heard the door being opened. "Oh, hey, maybe that's him!"

Except that it was Ross and Phoebe who were still arguing so intently that neither of them noticed anything amiss at first.

"I'm still saying, you could totally have won them over if you had been a little more tactful –"

"I didn't know it was Howard's cake! Well, anyway – oh, hey, what's up?"

"Chandler freaked out!" Rachel blurted out. "He's breaking up with Monica!"

Ross' mouth fell open. "What? No! No, he's not!"

"Ach, finally! If you ask me it's a wonder he didn't freak out sooner." Phoebe shrugged out of her coat serenely.

"Phoebe! How can you –"

"Actually, I agree," Monica cut in, meeting their bewildered stares calmly.

"What are you talking about?"

"Oh please!" Monica grimaced. "'Oooh, you're such a handsome couple! Oooh I can't wait for you to get married! Have you set a date yet? Oooh, won't it be great when you have kids! Oooh be sure to go to Hawaii on your honeymoon, it's so lovely there!"

"But Hawaii is lovely –"

"THAT'S NOT THE POINT!"

"Mon, stop screaming –"

"I HAVE TO SCREAM!" She stood facing them as they huddled before her defensively, wincing when she took a deep breath. "Alright, maybe not scream. But really! I'm so sick and tired of it. Doesn't anyone here know Chandler at all? Don't you know about how he feels about marriage and babies? We just started dating for crying out loud!"

"But you've been together for five months …"

"Oh, so just because you got married after three months means that we all have to do that now? And should I maybe leave him at the altar while I'm at it?"

"No, but –"

"As I said, we **just** started dating! We're not even living together yet! And you want us to get married and have babies already? Can't you see that you're all just driving him away from me? Why? Why would you do that?"

"We're not driving him away!"

Monica crossed her arms across her chest. "Then how did all this happen?"

"But I thought – how could we know –", Rachel seemed on the verge of crying. Nothing new there really.

"Again, how could you not know?"

"Well, we just assumed Chandler was fine about it, because you're in love and you always wanted babies, so we thought – we were just so happy for you …", now Rachel was almost babbling.

"And it never once occurred to you that maybe I didn't get together with him just because I wanted marriage and babies?"

"What? You don't want babies anymore?" Ross looked so genuinely puzzled she almost despaired.

"But why else would you do it?" Phoebe, still very cool.

"WHAT? What are you talking about?"

"Well, it's Chandler. Why else would you be with him? You've always wanted babies. You broke up with Richard because he didn't want children. If Chandler's so scared of marriage and babies, why would you want to be with him?"

For a hot blind moment Monica dearly wanted to jump her friend. "Has it ever occurred to you that I'm with him because I love him?"

Phoebe still look unconvinced and when Monica glared at each of the others in turn, daring them to comment they remained silent, not meeting her eyes.

"Fine! Now it makes every kind of sense. You think he's not good enough for me and I'm going to dump him if he doesn't want to get married and have babies with me."

"I'm not saying that! I know you love him. It's just that – it doesn't make sense! You loved Richard too! Only if you break up with Chandler like you did with him, the whole group will suffer this time. Like it did with Ross and Rachel! Wasn't that enough? Do you have to risk that?"

"But we will not break up! It's not like Richard at all! For the record, Chandler is much more important to me than marriage and babies. And he knows that too! I never said that I wanted babies, that's all you! You put all those ideas in his head and made him freak out!"

"Monica, stop." Ross stepped up to put an arm around her. "It's not that bad. Chandler will come around." The others nodded along, half scared and half relieved. "He just needs to figure it out. And he will!"

Monica took a deep breath. "Yes. I actually think so too. But when he does? What then?"

"What do you mean?"

"What's it going to be like? Oh, hey, look Monica, your hubby's back! Hey Chandler, you're looking so henpecked, has Monica been talking about babies again? Chandler, look! It's a baby! Waaaah! Waaaah! Coo-coo-coo! Monica wants babies! Run, Chandler, run!"

"Monica!"

"We would never do that!"

"Oh really, Joey? How about just now in the coffeehouse? 'Sht, the Mrs.!' Huh?" Joey looked abashed.

"Monica, stop, that's ridiculous!"

"Really? Is it? Oooh, Chandler, you'd better take off, Monica's picked a wedding dress –," her voice started to waver when she felt like she couldn't get enough air into her lungs. As Rachel and Ross both caught her up and held her close, she slumped against them, fighting against her tears.

"No Monica. I promise. I mean we never would do that anyway, but –"

"Really?"

"Of course not!"

"Oh I don't know, maybe I would –"

"Phoebe!"

"But I won't. I promise!"

"I promise too, Monica." Rachel hugged her. "We'll leave him alone. Joey, where are you going?"

Joey was heading for the door.

"I'm getting Chandler."

"Joey, no! Wait!"

"Why? I'll tell him it's okay to come back now!"

"Joey, no! I want him to come on his own."

"But this could take hours!" When Monica glared at him, Joey cringed again. "Alright, fine!"

Monica sighed resignedly. "Alright. A couple hours more. Then you can go and fetch him. And tell him that it's okay to come back, the 'Mrs.' put her rolling pin away."

"Aw, Monica …" But she had already turned away to sit on the ottoman where she could watch the door, her arms wrapped around her knees. The others exchanged helpless glances and shrugs and eventually joined her at the table to start a game of cards.

.

When Chandler did run in at last, out of breath and completely caught up in his blind rush, she almost couldn't believe her eyes. The joyful relief she felt however faltered a little, when he didn't even see her in his single-minded eagerness.

"Where's Monica?! Where is she? I need to talk to her! It's urgent! Is she here?"

"I'm Monica ..." she raised her hand with a quizzical smile. What could he be up to now?

"I need to talk to you, it's urgent!"

She let him draw her up to face him, still smiling, and very conscious of everybody staring at them. "Okay."

Chandler stared at her, swallowing and trying to collect himself, his nervous tension almost tangible. She wanted so much to throw herself at him, her own sweet idiot of a man, wrap her arms around him and kiss him senseless, but simply couldn't. Whatever he did now, he had to do it on his own, or it wouldn't, couldn't ever work. And yet just looking at him rubbing his hands together and shifting on his feet as he tried to find the right words nearly made her melt inside.

"Okay, I've been doing a lot of thinking about us, you know a lot of, ah, us thinking ..." And uh, well I guess there's only one-one way to do this."

And still with a nervous grin seemingly fixed on his face he slowly and awkwardly got down on one knee before her.

"Wait what-wh-wh-what are you doing?!" This couldn't be, whatever he did it just couldn't be that – but, yes, now he was fumbling in his pocket and getting out a – oh my god, a ring box, he **actually had a ring** -

"Monica …"

Almost in a panic now she took a step back, trying to ward him off. "No-no, don't-don't-don't do it!"

This was so wrong. This couldn't be real … and yet -

"Will you marry me?"

Dimly she saw the others shaking their heads and exclaiming as they watched. Ross and Joey were almost groaning with despair while Rachel stared at them wide-eyed and open-mouthed, and Phoebe had covered her face with her hands, only daring to peep every now and then.

"Ooh, I can't not look at this …"

Somehow this got her to calm down again and regain her composure as she looked at Chandler who still seemed to vibrate with panic, like someone suddenly finding himself on thin ice, and she tried to keep her voice as steady as possible.

"Chandler, why are you doing this?"

"I don't know," he admitted, adding hopefully "But I know I'm not afraid to do this ..!"

"Chandler."

He tried again. "I'm doing this because I'm sorry?" His expression plainly said that it didn't sound that convincing to himself either and Monica had to bite her lip to keep from giggling.

"Do you, umm, you really think the best reason to get married is because you're sorry?"

"No, the best reason to get married is pregnancy." At this everyone around them gasped in disbelief and Chandler's grin got even more desperate. "Sorry is pretty much fourth, you know, behind 'being ready' and 'actually **wanting** to get married'". As he caught himself babbling, he laughed nervously again and offered the ring to her once more. A small part of her found the time to register that it actually looked quite nice. "Will you be my wife?"

Sighing she got on her knees too to bring herself up to his level. "Chandler, umm, I want you to take just a minute and I want you to think about how **ridiculous** this sounds."

This finally did the trick. Chandler's eyes darted around their captive audience and their rapt expressions made him wince as he bent forward to whisper in her ear.

"Yeah, I'm kinda wishing everyone wasn't here right now ..."

Monica let out a deep breath, putting her hand on his knee. "Honey! Do you know that none of that stuff came from me?! I mean I never said I wanted to have babies and get married right now!"

Oh please, please let him believe …

"Yeah I know, but I was really confused and then I talked to these guys!" He pointed at Ross and Joey, and Monica wanted to weep with relief.

"Who? Two divorces and Joey?!"

"Hey!" Ross protested, but Joey actually nodded along. "She's right you know."

"Yeah, but still, cheap shot!" Ross grumbled sulkily and Monica turned to Chandler again, taking his head into her hands.

"You know what? You know when I said that I want you to deal with this relationship stuff all on your own? Well, you're not ready for that."

"I didn't think I was!" Oh, the relief on his face. Suddenly she felt elated, filled to the brim with joy, and at the same time so terribly sorry for him. But he had come through for her, he had overcome his fears to come back to her and that was all that mattered. Her arms opened wide as if by themselves and they drew together in a tight hug. As she pressed against him, rubbing his back and feeling him cling to her as if his life depended on it, the laughter finally bubbled up in her while she was still blinking back tears. At last she drew back again a little, chuckling helplessly at the absurdity of it all.

"Oh my God, what – what would have done if I said yes?"

Chandler assumed a dignified air. "Well I would've been happy because I would've been able to spend the rest of my life with the woman I love."

There was a slight pause.

"Or - - you would've seen a Chandler-shaped hole in that door."

This had everyone fall over themselves with laughter that had a good deal of relief mixed in it. Monica threw her arms around him again, laughing and crying at the same time with reaction. When they tried to kiss they found that they were both shaking too hard and had to abandon the manoeuver again until they had caught their breaths. But at last their lips met and she threw herself wholeheartedly into their kiss, clinging to him.

"Oh god … and I wouldn't have blamed you either –"

"Really?"

"No. It's too soon. Much too soon!" She gripped his shoulders to shake him. "What in the world were you thinking? That I was going to drag you to the altar right now holding a gun to your head?"

He grinned feebly. "I guess I wasn't. Thinking I mean."

"Well, do you believe me now? I swear to god, I really really don't –"

"Shsh. I know. I know. I'm sorry. I was a total idiot."

"You can say that again …" Ross muttered, scowling when Monica glared at him. "But I'm glad to see that you took my advice!"

"What? What are you talking –"

Chandler winced. "Unfortunately he's right, I did."

Monica stared. "What did you tell him?"

"Oh, just an advice." Now Ross was smirking. "I told him he had to make a big gesture."

"Really big!" Joey echoed grinning. Monica gaped at them, then just shook her head and got to her feet, drawing Chandler up with her.

"Come on, Chandler. We've got to get away from those lunatics, before they go off their heads and start couple counseling."

"Hey! Where are you going? You haven't finished your game!" But Monica only smirked at them serenely over her shoulder as she steered Chandler towards her bedroom and then firmly shut the door behind them, cutting off their protests. In the near dark she reached out for Chandler and drew him close, almost crushing him to her.

"Monica, I'm so sor-"

"Sh. Sh. I know. I'm sorry too. I shouldn't have run out on you." She clenched her hands into his arms and shoulders, giving him a little shake. "But you were so – I got so mad I just couldn't stand it –"

"You were right. I don't know what got into me. I was so confused!"

She laughed softly, pressing her face against his chest. "Chandler? Just promise me one thing."

"Anything -!"

"No, hear me out. Just promise me that you will never listen to the guys again. Whatever they say. And ask me first before you freak out again."

She felt him breathe out and then his arms came up around her, hesitantly at first, then his grip tightened until her breath was almost crushed out of her. "I – I'll try. I promise that I'll try." Now his lips brushed over her temple. "Also, next time before I freak out I'll try to make sure first that you can't run out on me."

She turned her face up to let him find her mouth with his. "Oh? And exactly how will you accomplish that?"

"Easy. I'll just make sure you're naked. Then you can still thump on me or kill me, but you won't be able to run out."

That had her chuckling and then laughing out loud, her laughter resuming every time he let go of her lips again. At some point they bumped against the edge of the bed and as he tried to draw her down on it she felt sorely tempted. But then she thought of the others waiting – and probably speculating about them – in the living-room and resisted, albeit regretfully.

"No, not now – we have to get rid of those idiots out there first. Raincheck?"

For a short moment his arms tightened and she almost changed her mind again, then he sighed and let her go. "Ugh … I guess you're right. Raincheck. God knows what they're thinking by now."

She giggled. "Maybe that I'm spanking you with my rolling pin."

"Oooh! Would you?"

"Chandler! Um, actually I don't even have one."

"Aw. Or maybe you could have me clean naked?"

"Um … as I said, raincheck?"


	5. Only One Way To Do This

It was over. Once more it was over, and he had gotten through it, their latest crisis and emerged from it with their relationship still intact and moreover, Monica won back again when he'd been on the brink of completely screwing up and losing her. Again. Considering how many times that had happened already, it was a wonder she was still not only prepared to put up with him but also get his back and give their friends a piece of her mind on top of that. He still couldn't quite wrap his head around it. Here he'd been, pulling the most idiotic Chandler freak-out possible, and she had shouted at them to put them straight. After the two of them had come out of Monica's bedroom again, he'd still been too much in shock to notice it, but now as they all trundled into the Perk for a last cup of coffee before they closed, it started to dawn on him that there hadn't been a single joke at his expense since his botched proposal stunt. Not so much as a whisper about the sound of wedding bells and the scent of diapers in the air, or requests to list the best reasons for marriage again in their proper order. Come to think of it, it was almost funny how hard everybody had tried to behave as if nothing much out of the ordinary had happened, avoiding even the slightest allusion to their fight, just as if he and Monica hadn't been on the verge of breaking up. As much as he enjoyed this new peace it was now starting to feel a little unreal to him. Almost scary in fact.

After they had all settled in their regular place on and around the big orange couch and drunk their coffees, he got up again to return Gunther's ring without the others noticing. There was another thing, he'd fully expected everyone to quiz him about the ring and where he'd gotten it, but not even Monica had asked him about it. At first he had actually considered to buy it from Gunther and add it to their keepsakes in the Chinese box as a reminder of his folly, but decided against it – the ring was just too nice to be wasted. When the time was right, he would hopefully have matured enough to get a proper ring for Monica, one that was right for her. He knew that his decision had been the right one when he saw how the manager's face lit up when he was handed the ring, and how tenderly he put it back into his breast-pocket after gazing wistfully at it.

"That was fast," he said. "Didn't it work?"

Chandler bit back the first comment that had been rising to his lips and coughed. "Um, no, but it wasn't the ring's fault. In fact the ring was fine. Admirable performance. You couldn't look for a better ring to do the job."

Gunther beamed shyly. "Really?"

"Yes! And thank you again." As he turned to go, Gunther held him back.

"Wait – did, ah, did Rachel see it by any chance?"

"I don't know," Chandler admitted. "But I'm sure she would have loved it."

That made Gunther's mouth twitch and Chandler hurriedly left him to his conflicting emotions.

As soon as he got back to the group and squeezed in next to Monica with his arm around her shoulders there was a slight but noticeable pause in their conversation, and he all but sensed them evaluating him, gauging his mood. Or maybe it was Monica, something in the way she smiled, cool and serene as always, but with a slight edge to it, and he was quite certain that they had just discussed if it was safe again to tease him and only needed to decide who went first.

"Oh, Chandler, there you are." Phoebe smiled at him sunnily. "A friend of mine wants to get married, but she's not pregnant and also not sorry, so do you think she should?"

Bingo. As he winced and tried to put a good face on it, a part of him felt vastly relieved that apparently things were returning to normal again. Their normal that was. Of course now that Phoebe had opened the gate, there was no stopping the others.

"Hey Ross, will you pass me that knife?" Joey asked, oh so casually.

"No, I will not!"

"Oh, it's okay. You don't have to be so mean about it."

"You're right, I'm sorry. Will you marry me?"

Alright, let them get it out of their system. After all he had put them through they surely were allowed a bit of teasing.

"Aw, and I was gonna ask you to marry me because I forgot to say hello to you last week." Phoebe joined in and then it was Rachel's turn.

"Oh no wait Pheebs, I think for something like that you just ask them to move in with you. But I'm not sure. Chandler?"

On the other side it really should not get out of hand.

"Okay, how long is this going to go on?"

Monica squeezed his thigh affectionately. "Well I think the length of teasing is directly related to how insane you were, so … a long time!"

Great. Just great. But wait, now Ross was trying to put his two cents in, and he'd bet anything that his ex-roommate would overdo it. He always did.

"This is fun. Hey Rach, remember that whole "We were on a break thing?" Well, I'm sorry, will you marry me?"

Yup, it worked. As Ross' laughter died down to a whine when Rachel's expression froze and the others just stared, Chandler almost wanted to hug him in his gratefulness.

"That's not funny."

"That's not funny at all!" And as Joey got up they all did, leaving Ross on the couch to contemplate his fail. For a moment Chandler almost felt sorry for him, especially as it hadn't exactly been Ross' day either, but when Monica slipped her arm around him and gave him a conspiratorial smile, his priorities asserted themselves again as he kissed her back.

"Oh, get a room!" Phoebe exclaimed impatiently.

"Why, that's a great idea! Thanks Pheebs!" And both he and Monica laughed as Phoebe and Rachel almost groaned in unison.

"Aw, come on, you two! You've got all night for that!"

"We have? Great, let's go!" Chandler agreed happily and Rachel sulked.

"But Monica, you promised …"

To his great relief Monica just smiled and took his hand, drawing him away with her. As they headed back to their building, he heard Phoebe suggesting that they should go to Ross' new apartment where there were "tons of party stuff" still left from earlier, plus they could enjoy the view.

.

They continued to kiss all the way down the street, through the door and up the stairs, then down the hall until they arrived in front of their respective apartments where they stopped, unsure which one they should choose.

"We did sleep at your place last night, so it should really be my turn –"

"But I just changed the sheets! I love it when they're all new and crisp!"

"Aw. But they'll still be new tomorrow, won't they?" Monica wagged her head, still indecisive, and Chandler desperately racked his brain for a convincing reason to get her into his place – the last thing he wanted was the thought of his friends staring at the window while he was making out with Monica, even if they couldn't possibly see them.

"And think about it, the last time we were in my apartment we had a fight. So I think we now need to show the apartment that we've made up again, so your apartment won't think it was all his fault."

Monica couldn't keep her mouth from twitching slightly as she desperately tried to remain serious, but he could see that the argument carried some weight for her.

"I refuse to believe that my apartment could be that mean, but I guess you're right, it would be like closing the circle. But tomorrow –"

"- we'll sleep at your apartment." Chandler kissed her again while he got out his keys. "And I really look forward to those sheets now. Um, we could change mine too now if you like?"

Monica shrugged as he ushered her in and took her coat. "We'll see. Where are the birds?"

"Don't worry, they're in Joey's room."

"Ah." She walked into the living-room and stood before his Barcalounger, and he could tell by the way she held her shoulders that her mood had changed again. The solution hit him almost before he could get puzzled by it and he wanted to kick himself. Of course, the Barcalounger was where it all had started. How could he not have considered that?

"Monica …" His words died in his throat as she turned and looked at him gravely, swallowing and taking a deep breath before speaking.

"I – I'm sorry, but I really need to know this, okay? What exactly made you think I have baby fever?"

"Oh my god, that - that was really out of line, I'm so sorr-", but she shushed him impatiently.

"Yes, but what triggered it? Now, after all this time!" Her expression softened at little when he came closer, and put his arms around her apologetically. "I really need to know this. If only to get it out there once and for all."

"I know. You're right. If you promise you won't run out on me again?"

She snorted. "I'll try."

"Okay then, let's see. We were sitting here, like this, and you were on top of me …"

"Chandler … um, please! Not now, okay?"

Chastened he withdrew his hands from under her sweater again and shifted around until they lay more or less facing each other. "Ahem. Yes. Okay, I had been talking to Rachel earlier –"

"I knew it! I knew she would do something like this! What did she say?"

Chandler winced, suddenly finding it hard to meet her gaze.

"Um … it started with her saying that Ross would be my brother-in-law one day …"

"Well, I guess that would freak out anybody."

Chandler sighed. "And I did. I told her she shouldn't go and put ideas in your head and she said that those ideas were probably already in your head."

"What ideas? That we will get married? But Chandler, I never …"

"I know, right? But I – well I panicked. And Rachel said that you always wanted babies and that you're almost thirty –," she hissed at that, starting up so suddenly it sent the chair rocking and he had to hold her until it steadied. "And, well, that – that you're Monica."

"What's that supposed to mean?!"

"I know. I hadn't thought about it, about you that way until that moment – it's funny, yes, and sad too – but ever since we're together I always think of you as a whole different person. Not the Monica who's crazy about babies and, and weddings, but –"

"- a Monica who doesn't want that anymore?"

He swallowed desperately. "The Monica who's my girlfriend now. It's so stupid, of course you're not different ..."

"No. Well, maybe a little stupid. But also a little true."

"What?"

She sighed and cuddled against him. "I am different now. At least I try to be. Yes, I was crazy about babies. And marriage. And maybe I did have baby fever once. Remember the time when I wanted to get pregnant by a sperm donor from the sperm bank?"

"Actually that's what made me think it was true. That and because you dumped Richard when he didn't want babies …" his words died on his lips when she glared at him.

"I did not dump Richard!"

Chandler opened his mouth, thought better about it and shut it again. There was a slight pause until Monica sighed resignedly.

"I didn't break up with Richard because he didn't want babies. It wasn't just about babies. I ended it because I realized I had no future with him. No – development, nothing new. We would always remain the same whatever we did. Because he'd been there already, because he already had everything – a family, kids, career, even grandkids. He didn't need anything anymore. But I did."

She took a deep breath. "So yeah, I ended it even though I was crazy about him. And then I regretted it and I guess I did get a little crazy for a while."

"Oh yeah. I remember that for a little while I was afraid you would ask me for a couple of my swimmers." When she couldn't help laughing at this, he started to breathe a little easier. "And when it turned out that Joey's form was among the candidates –"

She smiled a little wistfully. "Oh Joey. Actually it was he who made me change my mind, can you imagine?"

"Really?"

"He made up a story about what this guy looked like – he even gave him a name, and told me what it would be like if we were married and had kids. And that was when I realized I was all wrong. I didn't want a baby. I wanted a family."

She gazed steadfastly at Chandler who for once couldn't think of anything to say. After a short pause Monica continued.

"If I had gotten pregnant then, it would have been really selfish and so wrong for the baby, even if I had been satisfied. But it could never have worked. It had to be done right, with the right guy, at the right time. I would have to be there for the baby, not the baby for me. That's the way to do it. The only way."

Now she took his head in her hands, cradling it. "And I really believe that I can do that with you. No, hear me out – I don't mean now. I really don't want it now, when we've only just started out, that's much too soon. That would be selfish too. So not for some time - a long time probably. But eventually, yes. IF we take it slow, if we work on it very hard, we can get there. I don't care how long it takes as long as we walk that road together. Build up our relationship step by step, no matter how small, one little step at a time –"

"Little steps? Like – baby steps?"

She glared at him. "Chandler! Do you really have to -"

Chandler grinned and drew her closer to him, nuzzling at her neck and nibbling a little on her ear.

"But I do like that image. Our relationship taking its first baby steps. Small, tottering steps … wobbling … hesitating … looking around with big wide eyes … flailing its fat little arms with those chubby wrists …"

"Chandler …!"

"Crowing when another step is achieved … then losing balance and toppling, falling down on that cute little round tushy –"

"Stop it – oh my god …"

"Looking all surprised and clueless for a while, maybe even start to wail a bit … maybe getting picked up and kissed and soothed again, or trying to scramble all by itself and try again – mmph-"

Monica suddenly threw herself against him urgently, shutting him up with her kiss, her hands clenching in his sweater. He wrapped his arms around her and pressed her to him, the feel of her body, her warmth, her passionate kiss driving all conscious thought from his mind. When he bunched up her sweater and ran his hands over the skin of her back and sides she moaned desperately and started to wriggle on top of him. For a short breathless moment they broke their kiss, staring at each other silently, and then they both groaned deeply and started to tear their clothes off each other. First her sweater went sailing as he threw it over the backrest, then he struggled briefly to free his arms out of his together with his t-shirt while unhooking her bra at the same time. Panting she scrambled off the chair to tear out of her jeans and sneakers, and then bent over him to tug his pants and boxers off him after he'd kicked off his shoes. Then he pulled her up and over him again to kiss her neck and chest, sucking at her nipples while he pushed her panties down over her thighs and cupped her buttocks with his hands. It made the Barcalounger wobble and teeter alarmingly until they were all naked at last and pressing together hungrily, their movements getting slower and more languid, but no less urgent. When Monica started to rub herself slowly and determinedly against his erect penis Chandler's breath caught. They tried to draw out the foreplay as much as they could, until Monica yelped and shuddered, screaming softly as he worked two fingers inside her, holding her firmly in place with his other hand. When she grasped him, letting him slowly and luxuriously slide into her, and settled on him, grabbing for his hands, all panting and wet with sweat and from where he'd licked her skin, he had to make an effort not to rush it and have it end too quickly. Dimly he felt the moist leather of the Barcalounger stick to his back every time he moved against her, thrusting up slowly and steadily, while she pumped her hips against him, panting and clenching her hands in his until he couldn't feel his fingers anymore, her hair loose and tousled and her eyes shining almost madly. When her climax built up she dug her knees into his ribs as she straightened and tipped her head back, and he tried his utmost to time his own orgasm so they achieved it at the same time, arching under her and almost toppling them both from the wobbling chair in his efforts. Then it was over and she slumped again until she was lying on him full length, sweaty and spent, whimpering softly when he held her tight as the chair gently rocked beneath them.


	6. Closeness

Six months. In another week they would arrive at the half year mark. Today they had already completed their 25th week together, which was unbelievable in itself (25 weeks!) but that that magic date, March 18th that meant that they had managed to keep their relationship going for exactly half a year, was getting so close now really threw her for a loop.

How had this happened? How could they have gotten so lucky?

Of course it hadn't been all luck. Just partly, but a lot of it had also been hard work and determination. And making all that sheer luck work for them. But still. Six months! Six whole months!

She wanted to jump and shout, scream it from the rooftops. She was in a relationship that had lasted for half a year now and was still going on strong, without flagging. If anything, they were doing much better than ever before. They had weathered all those beginner's crises, the tummy aches, the sleeping troubles, the diaper rashes and just lately, teething pains (and wasn't it really amazing how well that genius comparison of their relationship with a baby still worked?) and had entered what seemed to her to be a quiet phase, navigating calm and gentle waters of pure enjoyment and content. For weeks now there had been nothing to disturb their peaceful and loving companionship, no doubts, no annoyances, no insecurities or anxieties. Just … happiness, pure and simple.

It was almost eerie. She had never been this happy for such a long period before, let alone this relaxed and confident in a relationship, always knowing that her partner accepted her just as she was, without reservations or concessions, that she never would have to hide or gloss over anything with him. Even Richard hadn't been able to make her feel that completely comfortable. Though they had talked about her, well, quirks? Eccentricities? Alright, obsessions - she had always felt that they'd barely begun to scratch the surface before it was over. And though he'd handled it all pretty well up to then, who was to say if at some point it would have gotten too much if they had stayed together longer? Or if she herself would not have gone back to suppressing those particular aspects of her personality in her interactions with him purely out of fear of driving him away and losing him at some point?

And then there was the fun. She couldn't remember ever having so much fun while being with someone, and often with such mundane, everyday things. Like doing laundry, shopping for groceries and clothes, going for walks in Central Park if the eternal rain let up and the early spring weather turned milder for a day or two, or catching a movie and spending half the time fooling around in the last row if they could get seats there. One evening which they had spent clearing and reorganizing Chandler's dresser and that she had actually been rather apprehensive about turned out to be the best time ever when they'd spontaneously started to put that measuring tape to some unplanned and unforeseen uses. It had ended with the best sex they'd had in all that week too. Just thinking about how painstakingly and lovingly he had measured and recorded the distance between her nipples or between her navel and her clit, and how wide she could spread her legs in as many positions they could think of still gave her most pleasurable shivers, to say nothing of the boost in self-esteem it had given her. Him too of course, although he had drawn the line at their measuring his erect penis, claiming that it evoked too many embarrassing memories of his time in an all boys' school when such measuring rituals had occurred almost daily.

Eerie yes, and strange. It was almost as if she couldn't get used to it, or was afraid of what could happen when eventually it would get ordinary and commonplace for her - the idea that all that happiness and content was for real, that it was here to stay. She had even come to feel protective about it, forever afraid in an almost superstitious way that some action or even thought of hers could jeopardize it. So she kept pushing certain things to an undefined future date – things like making plans for anything farther away than say a month, like vacations, holidays and such. Or telling her parents.

It was stupid, almost childish, but there it was. She couldn't do it. Every time she resolved to get over herself and just do it, push her vague fears and superstitions away, she would hesitate and cave in at the last moment. The worst thing about it was that she couldn't even quite define why it was so hard for her. It shouldn't really be, on the contrary, under different circumstances it would have meant a definite achievement for her, a triumph even that she couldn't wait to announce to them – the fact that she finally had a boyfriend and was in a serious relationship. Especially since Ross wasn't. But deep down she just knew that her parents wouldn't see it that way, especially her mother who would with unerring certainty find her vulnerable points and weaknesses and pick on them, thus spoiling everything for her. And she needed it to be perfect so much that she just couldn't face anything that could mar and taint that happiness for her. Not now, not while it was still so – vulnerable. And she still hadn't gotten used to it, still treated it like something precious that had to be protected and safeguarded. And why shouldn't she enjoy it a while longer? Later at some point there still would be time enough to tell them. Later when she felt strong enough not to let her parents' opinion have any impact on her mood. Not now. Sometime after their half year anniversary - or even one year - would still be soon enough. But now was not the time. Now was the time of enjoying her happiness, taking pleasure in her achievement, not to trouble herself over things that would probably resolve themselves in time – any time but now.

So not now, and especially not today of course or sometime during this weekend that marked the completion of their 25th week together. They definitely had other plans for that, one of which was their agreement to spend the entire weekend at Chandler's place for a change, eating, sleeping and just hanging only there the whole time. She wasn't quite sure yet if she would really be able to use the guys' bathroom for anything other than maybe a shared shower or two with Chandler, but she was determined to give it a try. Including cooking there, and make an honest effort to get along with the birds.

Another thing they had planned was sharing pajamas. The day before she had asked Chandler to choose some of the things for her to wear at night at his place (you mean for those ten seconds before I rip them off you again?) and during his meticulous examination of all those flimsy nighties and ridiculously expensive negligees that had accumulated during the past half year he had suddenly dug deeper and unearthed her old blue pajamas.

"Hey, whose are these?"

"What do you mean? They're mine!"

"But those look like men's pajamas." He shook out the top and held it in front of him for size. "Aren't they? They look a bit small for Richard though."

"No! Actually they're – well, I got them when I was fifteen. You know when –"

"Oh. Yeah, okay. But why did you keep them?"

"Well, originally they were for Ross, but he didn't want them because there weren't any dinosaurs on them. When I took them though, he didn't want me to have them of course, but I didn't give them back."

"Good for you! I wouldn't have either. They are really nice! What's that, a Martini glass?"

"I know! They're too big for me now, but I still like them."

"Hum." He shook out the pants and held them against his stomach, trying them on for size. "Maybe we could share them?"

"What?"

"You know, share them. You put on the top, and I wear the bottom." He grinned at her. "Maybe we'll even manage to wear them for a whole minute?"

So perfect, just like that. For a long moment she could only gape at him, until his grin started to fade, then she jumped at him throwing her arms around him to kiss him while he tried to steady them both.

"Yes! Aw, that's such a great idea!"

"Alright, great! Oh, how about I try this on too?" When he held out one of her black negligees she cuffed him, but couldn't help laughing. She never could, and it felt so good that she couldn't.

So here they were, late on Friday evening, sharing his Barcalounger, a bottle of wine and her pajamas and trying to solve a crossword puzzle together. Right there was another thing – she had never before been with a guy who liked crossword puzzles as much as she did. It also made her realize how much there was that she didn't know about Chandler - and on the other hand how much she did. The thought made her almost giddy. That and the way they snuggled together with her legs over his lap and his other arm wrapped securely around her holding her so close she could feel him breathing against her and their body heat mingling. It had been a long day, and she felt just the right amount of tired – not worn out or even exhausted, but pleasantly sleepy, the kind of sleepiness that still had room for a nice cozy and comfortable bout of love making with a bit of cuddling and spooning after as they went to sleep.

Yeah, life was good right now. So good. Now if they could only find that six-letter word for red, the one that would probably open up that last cluster of words they hadn't been able to crack yet. Crimson? Scarlet? Why did all the words for red have one letter too many? Or too few like rosy?

"Oh, maybe cherry? Um, no, doesn't fit."

"Nah, the last letter is definitely an 'n'." As they both frowned over the clues, Joey came in, heying them cheerfully. For a moment she was afraid that his presence would disrupt their peaceful companionship, but then she remembered that he'd spent the whole day at an audition and would probably go straight to bed.

"What are you guys doing up?" he asked as he headed for the fridge. Monica made a mental note not to use any of the skimmed milk he now took out for a swig straight from the carton – but then she usually avoided the guys' fridge anyway. God knew what lurked there in the vegetable crisper – she for one had no wish to ever find out.

"Oh, we wanted to finish the crossword before we went to bed." She felt Chandler kiss her hair above her temple and closed her eyes, smiling blissfully. "Hey, do you know a six-letter word for red?"

Joey's eyes went unfocussed for a second, then he snipped his fingers. "Dark red."

"Yeah, I think that's wrong, but there's a 'Connect the Dots' in here for you later." Chandler replied cheerfully, and she marveled once more how relaxed he seemed. "Hey, how about maroon?"

She checked and smiled at him widely before drawing his head down to kiss him. Her hero. "Yes, you are so smart!"

When she turned away from him again, Joey stood in front of their chair looking them over. His smile seemed a little uncertain or maybe just wistful.

"Aww, you guys are so cute!"

"I know!" Yes, they were. Finally, they were the cute ones, the couple everyone admired. It felt so good, even if it came from Joey. Or especially coming from Joey, considering how used he should have become to their being together by now.

Joey abruptly turned away and headed for his room. "All right, I'll see you in the morning."

Briefly Monica wondered if he was really that tired or just wanted to leave them alone, but decided it didn't matter and turned her attention to the puzzle again instead. "Ha, I knew it! That four letter musical is 'Hair' not 'Cats'!"

"Um, four-letter-musical? Sounds like that could be a new thing!" He grinned again and she cuffed him good-naturedly. Still grinning he pulled her close to him to kiss her, longer this time, and they snuggled together. When she drew back a little to look at him, she dimly registered some sounds from Joey's room as he kicked off his shoes and fell on his bed with a dull thud and groaning bedsprings but didn't really pay attention.

"Right, I think that's it, all finished. Are you ready for bed too?"

She smiled tenderly at him when he waggled his eyebrows suggestively and slipped an inquisitive hand under her pajama top.

"Mmmh … I take that as a yes? Umm … I just need to brush my teeth. And clear those away –" indicating the wine glasses. Chandler sighed and leaned forward so they could get off the chair.

"Why don't I do that whilst you brush your teeth, then you can check everything whilst I brush mine?"

"Aww!" She wanted to cuff him again, but held back when she realized that this was indeed the fastest - and most efficient – way. "Okay!"

.

When she finally entered his room, he had already taken off all his clothes except the pajama bottoms and was lying on the bed on his side, supporting himself on one elbow and smiling at her expectantly.

"All secure? Everything ship-shape?" When she started to take off her sneakers, he got up on his knees and drew her to him. "Nono, let me do that … umm … and I was thinking, maybe we could leave those pajamas on for now …?"

Her breath hitched when he slid his hands under the top and quickly loosened her bra, then rubbed across her nipples with the tips of his thumbs and kissed the place where her neck joined her shoulder at the same time. Instead of an answer she wrapped her arms around him and ran her hands up and down his naked back, growling appreciatively.

"I take that as a yes – whoa!" She had pushed against him so hard that he toppled backwards on the bed, taking her with him so that she ended up on top of him. As they kissed hungrily she kicked off her sneakers while he tackled the button and zipper of her jeans and tugged them over her hips and buttocks. Then he slid his hands under her panties, pushing them away and cupping her buttocks at the same time, his erection already straining against the pajama fabric. Panting she groped for his penis through the slit, for once fiercely glad that the pajamas were indeed men's – a fact that had always stopped her from wearing them anywhere else but at home in private – and closed her hand around it, pushing the tip against her clit. As soon as her legs were free of the jeans and the panties, she drew up her knees and straddled him, moaning when he slid two fingers into her. When she felt that she'd had as much foreplay as she could take she straightened up and got off him, then lay down on her back and spread her legs wide while she held out her arms for him. Chandler heaved himself up and crawled over her, not even taking the time to wriggle out of the bottoms, but gathering her to him and entering her with a deep heartfelt groan as she clasped him to her, wrapping her legs tightly around his pajama-clad hips.

.

When they finally emerged from Chandler's room again on Saturday morning after showering together and getting dressed, they were surprised to note that Joey had already left. Even more puzzling was the fact that he had made an effort to clear up after himself, or at least tried to – the cereal bowl and spoon were in the sink, and he had put the cereal back in the cupboard, but apparently forgotten to return the milk to the fridge. The door to his room was open and when Monica peeked in, only the birds were there – the chick busy with cleaning his plumage on the bed and the duck investigating a laundry basket with clean clothes on the floor next to the door. When she picked it up to put it on Joey's dresser out of reach, she noticed a very familiar fabric.

"Hey, aren't those your pajamas? The ones you wore in London?"

Chandler grinned at her as she held out the pajama jacket with the rodeo scenes on it. "Oh, right, he borrowed them from me a while ago."

"Joey? Joey borrowed pajamas from you?"

"Yeah, for when he spent the night at his parents. His mother hates it when he sleeps naked. He promised to have his grandma clean them – hey, they're ironed too! Hey, what do you say we share these tonight like we did yours?"

"Oooh! Well, if the pants are in there too – yeah, here they are. Hey, isn't that sweater yours too?"

Chandler frowned uncertainly at the light blue sweater she had found. "Could be. I'm not sure. If there isn't one like it in my dresser –"

"There isn't. Do you think I could borrow this for now?"

"Aw, are you cold?" He put his arms around her. "No, I'm sure Joey won't mind. Though I guess it's high time we did some laundry, if there are no sweaters left." He grinned suggestively while helping her put the sweater on. It was just what she wanted, warm and soft, with the exact right color shade for her. She could not remember ever having seen it on Joey, but it didn't matter anyway.

"Laundry?" She teased. "Our kind or for real?"

He enfolded her in his arms and molded his body against her. "Why not both?"

.

.

.

A/N: Yeah, I know, I know, it's been too long. Sorry about that. I don't know why it took so long for this episode to shape itself into a chapter in my head and for a long time I couldn't even think of anything to add to the canon story and round it out. But I guess sometimes a field has to lie fallow for a while until it can produce a good harvest again. Anyway, the wheels are turning again and I hope with a little more speed now too. For all those who have waited so patiently, thank you for holding still - I really appreciate it!


	7. Friends First

Chandler honestly couldn't decide which was more unbelievable – that he'd been together with Monica for almost half a year or that he hadn't freaked out for fully three weeks now. Three whole weeks of calm and peaceful happiness, undiluted joy and fun. Try as he might he couldn't remember ever experiencing that before. Three weeks with nothing happening that might cause him any worries or anxieties, let alone panic. Three weeks where he could just live in the moment, relax and enjoy himself and being with Monica.

It got so far that he felt secure enough to take things up a notch. Not really that much, because ever since Monica had laid out her 'baby steps' program to him, he was following it almost religiously. It made so much sense. To take things slow meant that not only were they playing it safe, but also enjoying each single small step, each and every progress so much more than if they were rushing through it. Plus it felt really good.

So as far as taking their relationship to the next level was concerned he for one was in no hurry at all. No sir. But the idea of spending the whole weekend together at his place, not just the night but the full three days made even more sense if you thought about it as a sort of experimental living together. He knew he wasn't ready for that yet, but a weekend together could definitely be classified as a baby step in that direction.

And so far it had worked pretty great. Last night had been so wonderful with their cuddle in his chair, sharing Monica's old pajamas and a crossword puzzle before one more awesome round of sex in bed, still in those pajama halves. Which they had kept on for their morning round too. If all went well, they would do it again tonight, this time with his pajamas, the one he had worn in London – if only briefly. Yes, life was so good. Even if there had been some minor – very minor – setbacks, like Monica's endless difficulties to adapt to his and Joey's kitchen which she kept nagging about between determined cleaning attacks and repeated excursions to #20 to retrieve one more vital kitchen tool she couldn't do without. Or his inability earlier to come up with a better joke than that rather obvious one with the donuts upon Phoebe's discovery of the police badge. Or Joey's strange behavior towards Monica, although that had seemed to freak her out much more than him. On their return to their apartments she had gotten rid of the blue sweater so fast as if it was on fire or something. A pity really as she had looked quite cute in it, but then Monica looked cute in everything, including that Harlem sweatshirt she had put on instead.

But all that was just really small stuff that he certainly wasn't going to sweat. No need to freak out about anything. As far as he was concerned, freaking out was done with anyway, a thing of the past.

He was almost sure about that.

Especially now with the two of them alone together in his kitchen and him sitting at the counter and watching Monica happily busying herself with all those tons of stuff they had gotten at the market earlier, or rather all those vegetables, herbs, ingredients and countless other things she had tirelessly gathered together and he had had to carry all the way from the market and over all five flights of stairs. Apparently it was all just for one big pot of vegetable soup with something or other on the side which she wouldn't elaborate on. But it didn't matter really if it just made Monica happy. Nothing else mattered. If there was one thing he'd learned in the past six months it was that if Monica was happy, it pretty much automatically followed that he was happy too. Like a magic formula that never failed. And over time he had become really good at making sure that Monica was happy. True, there had been setbacks, plenty of them, but not as many as there used to be, and he was becoming quite adept at spotting the forewarnings of trouble and danger and taking steps to avoid them. Sitting here watching Monica preparing yet another wonderful meal from which he would draw all the strength and stamina he needed for another satisfactory performance that night, he felt that nothing could really ever mar his equilibrium again.

Not even Phoebe when she burst through the door and came to a dead stop, staring at them confusedly.

"Oh – what are you doing here?"

Chandler smiled at her sunnily. "Hi Pheebs!"

"What do you mean?" Monica asked. "I told you we're spending the weekend over here."

"Oh. You're still doing that? And how's it working out for you so far?"

Monica shrugged complacently. "Good. We've had a few hitches, but I've got everything running smoothly now."

"Hitches?"

"Monica thinks our fridge wants to eat her" Chandler informed her calmly, stealing a piece of carrot from under Monica's nose.

"Yeah, I don't really trust that thing either" Phoebe said, sounding quite serious. "Every time I open it, I feels like it wants a drop of my blood or a bit of my hair or something, so it can wield its evil power over me. Brrr! But it will never get me!"

Monica just smiled quizzically and continued to chop her vegetables, leaving Chandler to find a change of subject.

"Did you turn in the badge?" he asked at length.

"Oh, I wanted to, but then I saw this guy throwing his coffee cup in the gutter and gave him a piece of mind. And so this guy was all um, ahm, erm, um - and I'm all, Buffay, Homicide!" And she flashed them the badge, her eyes sparkling. "It was just so cool!"

Monica shook her head at her. "Phoebe, you were supposed to take that back!"

"I know but I'm having so much fun doing good deeds!" Yeah, that was so Phoebe. By right she should have been Superwoman. Or a fearless warrior princess battling evil bloodthirsty fridges.

"Okay, but impersonating a police officer is a serious thing. You could get arrested."

She promptly whipped out the badge and flashed it right at him. "You could get arrested, right now!" But when they just glared at her silently, she abruptly sobered again.

"All right, yeah, I gotta take it back. I'm totally drunk with power."

At least she'd realized it on her own. Just as she hurriedly left, the badge still clutched in her hand, Joey came in, nodding to her in passing and then coming to a dead stop when he saw Monica at the stove, an odd expression coming to his face.

"Hi Joe ..."

"Yeah, I didn't know you guys were going to be here."

Huh? They had explained their weekend plan at least half a dozen times to him, stressing expressly that Monica would leave their fridge alone each time. But the last time had been how long ago, two hours? That would explain it – but not his obvious panic when Monica turned to him holding out a long spoon to him.

"Hey Joey, do me a favor sweetie, taste this."

"What?! Why?!" Joey almost bumped against the door in his efforts to avoid her.

"It's okay Joe. She's a trained chef." Chandler had substituted 'because she never believes me that it tastes great' in the last second for that and then frowned at his roommate as he still tried to dodge Monica. Joey foregoing a taste? What had the world come to?

"Uh, actually I was uh looking for Phoebe."

"You just missed her!"

"Oh was that her? I gotta go." But when he tried to escape Monica held the door closed.

"All right Joey, wait a minute. Wait. What is going on with you?"

"Nothing!"

"Oh, come on! You've been acting strange all day!" Which was ironic since Joey didn't even try to hide his discomfort by acting. As always whatever acting skills he did possess seemed to fly out of the window as soon as he was emotionally upset by something. And now he surrendered without even one more effort.

"All right! There is something. I kinda had a dream … but I don't want to talk about it."

A dream? That didn't sound too bad. Joey's dreams were usually pretty predictable with a very exclusive range of subjects – getting the Oscar, free access to the female students' dorm of NYU and a FOC heap of sandwiches delivered twice a day, not necessarily in that order.

"Whoa-whoa-whoa-whoa-whoa-what-what if Martin Luther King had said that?" Chandler mused. "I … kinda have a dream! I don't want to talk about it ..."

Joey straightened his shoulders. "Well, it involved Monica."

Whoa. Whoa? Who–hoa!

"You had a dream about a girl that I am seeing?! Oh, that is so cool!" Chandler almost forgot himself in his exhilaration as he turned to Monica. "I can't tell you how many times I've dreamt about a girl that he was seeing." Ooops. Open mouth, insert foot … Wincing he turned to Joey again. "Anyway we're talking about your dream." When it occurred to him that Monica needed – and deserved - at least a token reassurance, just in the extremely unlikely case she would chose to, well, misunderstand, he turned back to her again adopting his trusty puppyface look. "I love you." Ah yes, that made her smile. Phew. Immediate danger averted. Again. So, back to Joey. Was this what tightrope walkers felt like? "Your dream?"

Joey tried to adopt a truly sincere expression. "Don't worry, there wasn't any sex in it or anything. I haven't dreamt about her like that since I found out about you two - - ish."

Better and better. It would have been perfect if Monica hadn't been there, but still …

"What was the dream about?" Monica still seemed mostly amused. So far.

Joey took a deep breath. "Well, okay. You were my girlfriend and **we** were doing the crossword puzzle. You know like you guys were doing last night." His expression grew towards panic. "So, that's it. I'm in love with Monica and I'll be moving out."

He purposefully headed towards the door again, but Monica held him back while Chandler still couldn't believe his ears.

"Wait, Joey! Joey! That doesn't mean that - that you're in love with me!"

"It-it doesn't?" Joey looked almost pathetically hopeful.

"No!"

"No, it can mean anything." Chandler had recovered from his surprise. "Like uh, all of the sudden you're jealous because I've become the apartment stud."

"That kinda sounds like your dream dude." Joey said drily. Damn. Another cherished bubble burst.

"Or, it could mean that - that you saw Chandler and me together and we, you know, were being close and stuff and then you just want to have that with someone too." Of course, that had to be it. It was at times like these that he suspected that Monica knew Joey much better than he did.

Joey's face lit up. "In the dream I did enjoy the closeness …! Well if that's what it was, that'd be great. I wouldn't have to move!"

Joey wanting closeness? Cuddling? Togetherness? Even crossword puzzles?!

"Joey, look, are you attracted to Monica?" He took her by the shoulders, gently pushing her to stand in front of him. "Right here, right now, are you attracted to her?"

Joey studied her at length as she inadvertently stood at attention. "Not really."

"Well there you have it!" Case closed. Except that Monica took offense like he really should have known she would.

"Well sure! I'm just wearing sweats!" Only then she caught his eye and realized what kind of point he had wanted to make. "Um, but that's good that you're not in love with me, because you just want a girlfriend!"

Joey however disagreed. "No, I don't think it's just about just getting a girlfriend. I mean, yeah, I can get a girlfriend! Yeah, we could sit in the chair and do crosswords, but, you know, are we ever going to have the closeness like - like you guys have?!"

Not without a major change of lifestyle, obviously …

"Well y'know, Monica and I were **friends** before we started dating. So maybe - maybe that's it?"

"Friends first? That's interesting …" Joey had relaxed enough by now to pick up the spoon to taste the soup that was still bubbling merrily on the stove. Monica looked at him quizzically.

"You become friends after?"

"No, never done that either." And he said that in all truthfulness, without even a hint of irony. Chandler felt more gleeful by the moment. Joey wanted closeness, friendship, or rather: Joey wanted what he, Chandler, had. Finally.

And it felt so good.

Of course, Rachel had to come in at exact that moment when he wanted nothing more than to bask in his triumph. But Monica hated it when he gloated. Or danced, so maybe it was just as well.

"Hey, umm, do you guys have that tape measure?"

"Oh yeah, it's actually in my bedroom." He had replied without thinking, and only when it was out and he found Monica suddenly blushing and suppressing a giggle, he belatedly remembered how they had actually used that thing last. Ah yes, all that measuring, how hot had that been? When he had measured everything of Monica that could be measured until his erection had become almost painful and they - -

Only when Rachel and Joey grinned and nudged each other he realized what they were doing and, turning around with Monica almost simultaneously they fled to his bedroom. But just as he held the two halves of his door open for Monica to precede him, he looked back and saw Joey lazily leaning against the stove, looking Rachel up and down and smiling appreciatively. Wait a minute. What the hell -?

"What's up Joey?" Rachel's grin faltered a little.

"How you doin'?" Of course, he might have known. Joey had never been one for wasting time. Chandler saw Rachel's freeze under the onslaught of Joey's fully turned on blast of charm, her expression as puzzled as if he had just started talking Chinese to her.

Then Monica nudged him from behind. "What's happening? Chandler!"

He decided he didn't really want to witness the outcome of Joey's move and hurriedly dove through the door. "Oh, just Joey grasping at straws. He's really serious about that closeness thing. Wow, I can't believe it! Joey wants what I have!" He caught her glare just in time. "What we have rather!"

Monica frowned. "What?"

"Look! He's trying to hit on Rachel!" He let her see for herself through the crack of the upper half of the door. By now Joey was trying to inch closer to Rachel without appearing to do so, with a fixed smile on his face, while Rachel still seemed frozen in place, smiling at him uncertainly. Then Joey's hand came too close to the gas flame under the still bubbling pot of soup and the spell was broken.

"OUCH! Son offa bi-"

"Joey! Oh god, mind the – oh my god!" Monica almost flew to the kitchen to secure her pot that Joey had sent wobbling dangerously. But Joey who was now holding his smarting hand under the faucet obviously couldn't care less. When Rachel backed out of the kitchen giving the two of them a wide berth Chandler remembered the measuring tape and went to retrieve it for her. Rachel hesitated just a moment too long to take it and he grinned wryly.

"Don't worry, it's all squeaky clean again. It is Monica's tape, you see. Here, she put her name on it and all." Rachel smiled perfunctorily.

"Um, right. Oh, and Chandler, actually there's another thing I needed to ask you …"

.

.

Much later in the evening and safely back in his living-room waiting for Monica to finish her third remaking of his bed, and with Ross (hopefully) still locked in his life-and-death struggle with his new couch that just wouldn't pivot, he still caught himself shuddering and grinding his teeth at the memory. He even fancied that his ears were still ringing from his friend's frantic screaming – could be that he would never be able to shake off the echo for as long as he lived. Damn Ross and that bloody big whale of an unmoving, unwieldy, impossible to shift let alone pivot couch. Why why why had he ever agreed to lend a hand in this crazy venture? It wasn't as if Ross was his brother-in-law yet – aargh, there he went again, thinking about those forbidden subjects again. In-laws. Marriage. Commitment. No, don't go there, it's too soon. Way too soon. Baby steps, now that was the ticket. Nice and slow. Not babies, just baby steps, teeny tiny baby steps, one after the other.

His new mantra.

Okay, change of subject, something else to think about instead of the pivot disaster. Hmm. Phoebe and the rightful owner of the badge? Meh. Somehow the thought of Phoebe flashing the badge wherever she could still gave him the willies. Why she of all people had kept it instead of dropping it like a hot potato immediately was beyond him. And now she had actually met the cop in question and just barely escaped. What if he managed to track her down and she really got in trouble? It didn't bear thinking really.

Alright, so not Phoebe. What about tonight then? He still had to find something to occupy them both during their before bed snuggle on the Barcalounger. The Rubik's Cube obviously was a write-off, and they seemed to have run out of crossword puzzles. Maybe a nice book – a short story perhaps? Or a photo album? Would Monica actually let him look at her kid photos? Or worse, what if she insisted that he share his while they were at it? He honestly didn't think they were ready for his baby photos yet. Maybe in a couple of years. Or decades. Or never.

"Aaaand done!" Monica, bless her, came out of his bedroom and curled up in the other Barcalounger next to him. "I couldn't find a matching pillowcase for the second pillow though and I looked everywhere. Did you put it in the laundry?"

"Pillowcase, pillowcase … oh yeah, that one. I think Joey used it to get the chick to the vet."

Monica sighed. "Why do I even bother?"

Chandler hurriedly fumbled for a change of subject. "So … are we all set for tonight? Pajamas? Candles? Wine? Okay, great!" He leaned over the armrest of his chair trying to get close enough for a kiss. The chairs were still almost a yard apart so they both had to lean over quite a bit until their heads met in the space between for a long satisfying kiss. But just as he considered pushing his chair closer to hers and take things a bit further, Rachel came in, startling him so much he almost fell out of the chair.

"Hi! Awww, you two, that's soo –"

Chandler rolled his eyes.

"Sexy? Awesome?"

Rachel wagged her head. "Um, I was going more for cute …"

Chandler sighed. "Still seems to be a popular opinion about us these days."

"Oh, but please, don't mind me!" Rachel leaned against the counter and gazed at them wide-eyed, smiling encouragingly. Monica just shook her head.

"Man, I really really miss the sneaking ...!"

"Yeah, me too." They shared a look of complete and utter understanding and Chandler felt himself stirring just on the power of the memories. Rachel looked confused.

"Really? I thought it had to have been really awkward. And uncomfortable."

Monica smiled. "Maybe. But it was so hot!"

Suddenly Rachel seemed to be all ears. "Oh yeah? Like how?" She colored a little when they both glared at her and gamely cleared her throat. "I mean, I've been meaning to ask you, how did you actually do it? Did you wait when everybody was out, or –"

"Um, sometimes, yes, but mostly …"

"Chandler!" When she frowned at him, he abruptly shut his mouth, belatedly remembering her repeated warnings not to reveal too much of what they had between them to the others. Personally he thought it was a lost cause - especially with her, for as long as he'd known her she had never been able to shut up - but if it made her happy …

Rachel sighed deeply. "No, that's okay, I understand if it's too embarrassing."

Embarassing? Chandler and Monica shared another look, rather puzzled this time and Rachel laughed.

"Well, how would you like it if your ex told the salesman at the furniture store how many times you'd done it with him?"

"Yeah, sounds just like Ross" Chandler said dryly while Monica gasped. "Was it 288 or 298 times?"

"What?"

"Well, last time he told me it was 288. Or 298? He keeps adding to it, it's really hard to keep track."

Rachel rolled her eyes. "Right, and even if it was correct, I mean what kind of loser does that anyway?!"

Chandler almost missed the fleeting uneasiness on Monica's face, there for just half a second and then gone again. But he had caught it and while he tried hard not to show his glee, deep inside he rejoiced. What a day.

Joey wanted what he had.

Ross' elaborate couch moving plan had failed.

Rachel hadn't been aware of their sneaking.

Monica had kept count. She actually had kept count!

Could life get any better than this?

"We did our sneaking at night mostly" he said to Rachel, suddenly feeling very magnanimous. Rachel's eyes widened.

"What? But I never heard anything!"

"Of course not" Monica smirked.

"But how did you do it when Ross lived here, I mean, did you really –"

"No!"

"When Ross was here, I sneaked over." Chandler vividly remembered the long waiting in the dark for Ross to finally start snoring, and then the slow and careful inching across the living-room to the door, letting himself out into the cold dark hallway, darting across to Monica's door, tiptoeing as swiftly and silently as possible through the dark apartment, into her bedroom where he'd fling off his clothes and dive into her bed and Monica's waiting arms, pressing against her hungrily and growing fully erect the very instant her body warmth and scent enveloped him … Oh yeah, those really were the days.

"And you were never caught?"

"Not even close." He smirked and Rachel narrowed her eyes at him until he relented. "Okay, I had to hide behind the couch once. Well, twice."

"Oh. Oh my." Rachel's eyes were shining. "And all the time I thought Monica was just playing at having a boyfriend."

"WHAT?!"

"Oh, you know, like when we were in high school and I was dating Chip, and you said you had a boyfriend too just to spite me."

That brought Monica to jump up from her Barcalounger so hard it almost toppled. "I did have a boyfriend!"

"Oh? And did he know it too?" Rachel smiled sweetly at Monica who hesitated just a fraction of a second too long, scowling. Chandler almost smirked but caught himself just in time and frantically searched his mind for a change of subject.

"So, did you get that monster couch shifted?"

Rachel winced and helped herself to some candy from a bowl on the counter.

"Um, it kinda shifted itself, when all those people trampled on it and broke it in two."

"What? But why were people trampling on it?" Chandler joined her at the counter to make sure he got his share from the bowl.

"Well, there was that fire alarm and it was still blocking the stairs" Rachel shrugged, a bit too casually and Monica frowned at her.

"So?"

"Hmm? Oh, Ross' took it back to the store to claim store credit for it." Rachel grinned wryly. "I really hadn't the heart to watch that."

"Store credit? For a broken couch?"

"Well, you know Ross …"

Just then Joey came in, nodding at them perfunctorily while Rachel gave him her most brilliant smile.

"Hey! How's it going? Did you make any new friends?"

Joey shrugged dismissively – too dismissively for his liking. "Yeah, yeah, I met this woman." And with that he already headed for his room and Chandler had to almost throw himself into his way to stop him.

"Hey, whoa - whoa! What's she like?"

Joey shifted uncomfortably. "Uhh, well, she's…really good in bed."

Yup, just as he had thought. Every so often Joey might be temporarily tempted by something, but at the end of the day his priorities always reasserted themselves.

"Joey, I thought you were gonna try to be friends first!" Monica wailed. Joey glared at Rachel.

"Well look, hey, it's all your fault!" Rachel's eyes widened.

"What?! Why?!"

"Well because you didn't give me advice! No! You gave me a pickup line! As soon as I told her I wanted to, you know, ' _build a foundation_!' and ' _be friends first_!', I suddenly - through **No** fault of my own - became irresistible to her!" He paused dramatically. "AND her roommate!"

Well, at least it had cured him of that stupid sentimentality …

"What about the closeness?" Monica still didn't want to give up.

"Closeness-shmoseness! There were three of us for crying out loud!"

So much for Joey's new love life goals. As his bedroom door shut behind his roommate Chandler felt a slight pang. How long had it lasted? Three, four hours? But still, Joey HAD wanted what he had. He had even dreamed about it. About having for himself what he'd had for half a year now, baby step program and all.

It was almost too good to be true.

.

.

It was past midnight when they'd finally returned to #19 and Chandler's London pajamas that were waiting for them on his pillow. Letting Monica finish all those strange rituals in the bathroom that she regarded as indispensable before going to bed, Chandler curled up in his Barcalounger to wait for her, taking stock of the day as he did so.

"Hey, do you think that Phoebe and that cop will hit it off? That it'll get serious?"

"Could be. He seemed pretty smitten with her."

"But a cop! Wouldn't that be too – dangerous for her? What if she's too weird for him?"

"Nah. He seemed really nice. I think they'll make a great couple."

"But what if he –", but whatever he had wanted to say was irretrievably lost when Monica emerged from the bathroom wearing only the pajama top and a sleepy smile, the sight of her making him gulp and start up from the chair. For a long moment he simply stared at her, then he abruptly jumped up and gathered her to him, gently lifting her up in his arms. She squealed softly and wrapped her legs around his waist, giggling when she felt him hardening against her until he clamped his mouth on hers. As he carried her to his bedroom he kicked the lower part of the door shut while Monica took care of the upper half, and then they almost fell on his bed, moaning and laughing breathlessly. She took hold of his almost painfully erect penis to rub the tip hard against her clit while he rubbed and sucked her nipples, letting his hands roam all over her under the pajama top. When at last she pressed him urgently against her entrance, he pushed into her while he held her close, his breath hitching and his eyes squeezed shut tightly, their moans and soft screams mingling and echoing each other. Dimly he felt her heels drumming against his buttocks und the back of his thighs, her nails sinking into his back as she strained against him, and then they were at it once more, for the umpteenth time (though he was pretty sure that she knew the exact number), locked and lost in that indescribably wonderful glorious union that neither of them could ever get enough of.

On most of these occasions he was able to hold back his own orgasm until she had climaxed at least once, but this time the urge to let go somehow got too strong for him. When he ended up panting and almost whimpering with the effort, clawing his hands into the bedspread, he felt Monica wrapping herself around him even tighter than before and her hands stroking his back and shoulders soothingly. Taking some deep shuddering breaths he tried to ride it out, then as soon as he felt himself going soft again he slid out of her and let his fingers take over the job, supporting himself on his elbows and knees. The sight of Monica under him, still in the pajama top, glowing and sweaty, all heated and squirming frantically as her climax finally approached was almost enough to turn him on again. Then it was done and he let himself fall on his back beside her, gasping and shuddering as the sweat cooled on his skin.

"Oh my god. That was so … so hot!"

"I know!" she crowed and he grinned wryly.

"I'm sorry I went so fast. Guess it got just too hot for me." He heaved himself onto his side and put his arm around her.

"That's okay. It was almost too much for me too." She put her hand to his face to draw him to her for a kiss, then she grinned triumphantly. "We're the hottest!"

"Yeah. We've still got it. Even without all the sneaking."

"Oh yeah. Um, I was thinking though. I really meant it when I said I missed that."

"I know. Me too."

"You do? Well, do you think we could do it again – you know just pretend we were never found out and –"

He kissed her again. "Oh, absolutely. Let's do that. We'll make it our next weekend thing. We could take turns …"

"Yes!" Now her eyes were shining almost madly, and the next thing he knew he was lying on his back again with her on top and straddling him. After some token protest on his side and good-natured shushing and cuffing on hers they settled against each other once more, fitting their bodies into each other. As he felt their breath-rates slowing down and her body relaxing under his hands, Chandler realized, for what felt like the thousandth's time, that he was truly content.


	8. Flame on Fire

The problem was - as ever and always, and probably would always be – that she could never get enough. Here she was with a perfect boyfriend that she'd been together with for a half a year now (half a year! 26 weeks and four days, their 27th week almost completed!), with every expectation of a glorious future, and it still wasn't enough. She needed more, craved it even. She needed everyone if not to admire (even better, worship, why can't you get out and say it) then at least confirm it by acknowledging them for what they were – a perfect couple, blissfully happy and hot. Especially hot. Nothing less would do. But right there was the dilemma – if she actually let their friends witness how hot and crazy about each other they were – still were, even after half a year, and how amazing was that? – it would go against her original decision to keep things that only concerned the two of them between themselves as much as possible, to make their relationship even more exclusive and special. She still shuddered at the memory of Ross and Rachel acting out and displaying every single emotion and argument for everyone to see and share in, lacking any tact or sense of privacy. Every time she was tempted to emulate them, she only needed to remember how they had carried on their relationship and later breakup and subsequent fights in the limelight all the time, rubbing everyone's noses in it, displaying nearly everything in public, and she would be cured of the notion immediately.

But it wasn't easy. If only there was another way to make them all see, to ram it down their throats until there was absolutely no way they could be mistaken about her and Chandler being really special. The best of all couples with the most perfect relationship of all. That they were still crazy about each other, couldn't get enough of each other and, most importantly, had already done it more often in six months than Ross and Rachel in one year. If it wasn't such a total loser thing to keep count she would happily tell everyone around the exact figure over and over, maybe announce it on a notice board for everyone to see, or even shout it from the balcony. But of course every time she even considered it, someone else – Ross usually – brought it home to her why she shouldn't. Couldn't really. Not ever.

Still, it was rather frustrating. If only their friends weren't so preoccupied with other things all the time, like Ross with his idiotic window performances, Rachel with her job interview, Joey with his elusive hot girl and, finally, the toughest nut of all, Phoebe with her new boyfriend. She had been so happy that her friend had finally found someone so promising again, and actually had looked forward to some nice girl talks, sharing and reveling in their mutual happiness. Yesterday when they had been in her kitchen and Gary had barely been able to tear away, it had seemed that the time for such a talk had finally come – until Phoebe had to spoil it all again with her derisive remark. The memory still gnawed at her. Even though Phoebe had immediately backed off and tried to gloss over it, the damage had been done. It had hurt her all the more because she knew that of all of them Phoebe was the one who could never be really convinced that Chandler and she were passionately in love, no matter how hard she tried. Of course she had tried regardless, had given everything as usual and ended up almost yelling at her friend. "I mean as long as you know that Chandler and I are also very hot and fiery, just as hot as you! I mean our flame, whew, is on fire!" But she might just as well have tried to convince Ross that his "Shark Attack" and "Surfing King" hadn't even be that funny the first time he laid it on and now were only annoying at best. When in a final desperate attempt she had jumped at Chandler and nearly wrestled him to the floor with her passionate kisses and embraces Phoebe had still remained sceptic, even though Chandler had played along quite enthusiastically. There really was no understanding it. What else could she do to make her friend change her mind? Deep down she already suspected that it was a lost cause – in her own way Phoebe could be just as stubborn as she was – but she couldn't give up. At least not so soon, not as long as there was hope. If she could just show Phoebe unmistakably once and for all that she was wrong, that it was possible for two longtime friends to fall in love and still be as passionate about each other after half a year as in the beginning, she could be at peace again. Or at least at peace about this particular issue.

She would try it again tonight at dinner when Gary would be there – maybe he would realize what Chandler and she had going and help her to win Phoebe over. It was a slight hope, but better than nothing. She had to try something, anything, just to stop that gnawing need, that insistent voice in her head that would never shut up and was driving her crazy already. Suddenly she knew that she had to do something about it already now, while they were whiling away the last hours before dinner with coffee at the Perk.

"Phoebe, do you want to go see a movie after dinner tonight?"

"Oh we can't, we already have plans." Which seemed strange as it was Gary's first free day in two weeks. What could be so important?

"What are you doing?"

"Well, same thing we did all day, hang out at Gary's apartment. He is so amazing, we never left the bedroom. But have fun at the movie."

Monica mentally kicked herself for walking into that one so easily. "Oh, we're not seeing a movie!"

"You're not? Then why did you ask us if we wanted to go?"

Good question. "Oh umm, that's because I just didn't want you, you know, walk in on me and Chandler while we were, you know, doing it all night." She said it as casually as she could, almost dismissively, but was painfully aware that it still was not enough. No, this called for stronger measures. "Will you excuse me for just a second?"

Now where was Chandler? Oh yes, there at the counter talking to Gary. For a moment she wondered about the towel in his hand – had he spilled coffee on his lovely dark brown suit she had specifically asked him to wear to the dinner by any chance? - but let it go. This was more important.

"Chandler? Can I see you for a second?"

"Uh, sure." He followed her until they were reasonably out of earshot and looked at her expectantly. "We have **got** to beat them!" No time to beat around the bush, he knew her well enough to guess what this was about. Nevertheless he looked a little nonplussed.

"Why?"

Oh god, how to bring it home to him …

"Because, Gary and Phoebe think they're a hotter couple than we are!"

His eyes widened in mock consternation. "Ohh! So?!" God, how she hated it when he played dumb.

"So! So we've got to go upstairs and have a lot of sex to prove them wrong!"

"Monica, you have **got** to stop this competitive thing! Okay? It's crazy." Of course he had to say that and she knew better than to argue with him, waiting instead until the full meaning of her argument started to sink in. "I mean, just to impress Gary and Phoebe we have to go upstairs and have sex over and over –" she actually held her breath waiting for it "- and I'm saying no to this, why? Get your coat!"

Yes! It had worked. And who needed coats anyway when it was about to become so hot? Not she!

.

.

In between all the hurry of rushing out of the coffeehouse and running to their building, going up the stairs two steps at a time until Chandler's puffing started to sound almost alarming, Monica could still devote a small portion of her mind that wasn't taken up with planning the next hour or so to the thought of how much she had lucked out with Chandler. Would any of her past boyfriends even have listened to her? Most of them would probably have laughed at her and/or tried to fob her off. She knew that Chandler didn't hold with what he called her 'competitive stuff' but he always did try to understand and, more important, never needed much persuasion to join in the fun side of it. He was on her side, ever and always, and she always came first for him, her wishes and concerns, however crazy they would appear. He would worship her like a goddess if she wanted him to, or even if she didn't – and right there was an idea, just as they finally reached her apartment door. Even though he was still panting hard, Chandler tried to kiss her as they stumbled to her bedroom, laughing all the way. Once inside he immediately started to tear at his tie and shrug out of his coat at the same time, nearly choking himself in the process until she came to his aid. She fetched a coat-hanger and put his nice dark brown suit on it while he put his shirt and underwear across the chair. When he held out his arms however, she drew back.

"Not here. I've got something different in mind." She grinned suggestively. "Could you wait in the living-room until I, um, join you?"

"Like this?! Can I take my robe at least?" For a moment she balked – his plain grey robe and socks didn't exactly conform to her idea of fiery hotness – but then she decided it didn't matter. Maybe it would even make for better contrast.

"If you won't get too hot in that …"

As soon as she was alone in the bedroom she stripped off her clothes and took the pins out of her hair, shaking it loose, once more fiercely glad that she had decided to go back to the soft curls at her last hairdresser's appointment. She loved the way her hair now fell in such soft and slightly unruly waves to her shoulders, so much more suited for what she had in mind now. All naked and glowing with anticipation she squatted in front of her wardrobe and opened the bottom drawer. Yes, there they were, all fresh from recent laundry, spotlessly white, emanating a faint scent of fabric conditioner and sachet. She took one of the sheets out and shook it out of its folds, and then wrapped it around herself in front of the mirror, marveling at the cool silky smooth feel of it on her naked skin. Adjusting it so that one corner went over her shoulder and around her arm she walked to the door, head held high.

She paused the door to look at Chandler lolling on the couch, with his sock-clad feet on the table, and hurriedly sitting up straight when he caught sight of her. For a long moment he stared wide-eyed at her, his jaw slowly coming unhinged, then he grinned at her broadly with pure delight.

"Oh my god … that's … you look … you look like –"

"Yes?" she inquired sweetly as he came to his feet, looking as if he was almost drooling. He came to stand in front of her and put his hands on her shoulders while his gaze travelled over every inch of her.

"Like – like a Greek goddess. Or Roman? Oh, I know! The Columbia Pictures lady!"

"What? No way. She has a dress on, and a shawl, and she's holding that torch …"

"Doesn't matter." His voice got muffled as he went down on his knees and buried his face in the folds of the sheet over her thighs, his hands roaming over her waist and hips. "You don't need a torch. I've got a torch for you right here …"

She clenched her hands on his shoulders and closed her eyes as his hands found their way under the sheet and started to explore. It fairly made her toes curl.

"It's funny … ah, um … oh god … because when I was a kid I used to dress up in a sheet to look like her … ah … ah … only it never worked …"

"Well, it works now." He grinned at her briefly and then lowered his head to the ground and started to kiss her feet, from the toes over her arches to her ankles and slowly working his way up with his lips while his hands roamed freely over her hips and thighs. Monica suddenly found it hard to remember just how to keep breathing. Holding on to his shoulders she loosened the belt of his robe with her toe and then tugged it over his back until he took his hands off her long enough to get out of it, never missing a beat on his kissing expedition up her legs. Butt naked now he kept kissing his way up to her knees, gently tugging the folds of the sheet apart and pushing his head under it, and just the sight of his naked back and buttocks as he grovelled at her feet was deeply exciting. For a seemingly endless time he kept kissing and licking the skin of her inner thighs just under her vulva, teasing at her labia with his lips and tongue while his hands rubbed and massaged her buttocks and the back of her thighs down to the hollows of her knees while she yelped and squealed, her breath hitching and hissing at the sensations. At last she took up the sheet at its edges and held it wide, enfolding him in it as he came to his feet and wrapped his arms around her. They remained like that for a long deep kiss, swaying and moaning softly. Then he gripped her buttocks with both hands and lifted her up a little while she wrapped her legs around his hips and thighs, moaning when his erection pressed insistently against her abdomen. They barely made it to the easy chair where he let her down while kneeling on the seat and holding her up against the backrest until the tip of his penis pressed against her entrance and she slowly let him slide inside, inch by loving inch. Still enveloped in the sheet they started out rather slowly, almost languidly, kissing deeply with each slow drawn out thrust. She held on to his shoulders, her hands clenching on his back and whimpering with lust. As his thrusts came faster and more urgent she started to grind against him, placing her feet firmly on the armrests and pressing hard against the backrest of the chair. In the beginning she had fleetingly wondered if it would really be up to the strain before all rational thought was driven from her mind. As it turned out there was no need for worry, apart from some wobbling and skidding over the carpet the chair seemed quite equal to the strain.

Just as she sensed her climax approaching Chandler started to suck at her nipples, closing his teeth ever so gently on both in turn and sending her over the edge with it, screaming and squirming wildly. Then she realized that he still had a while to go yet and motioned to him to let her go a little. As soon as he had drawn out of her she let go of the sheet and turned around, pressing against the backrest and spreading her legs wide to receive him again. He kissed her on the neck and cupped her breasts from behind as he thrust into her again, the feel of him from another angle now driving her crazy immediately. Her lust heightened until she thought she couldn't bear it anymore, would surely pass out as she spiraled out of control into her next orgasm. When he climaxed shortly after, panting and yelling as he shudderingly spent himself in her she barely found the strength to remain on her knees and hold on to the chair. Still joined they waited until their heartrates had slowed down a little and the sweat was starting to cool on their skin, then they slowly climbed down from the chair and shakily got to their feet. While Chandler retrieved his robe Monica picked up the sheet and wrapped it around her again before dropping on the couch beside him, still heated and out of breath, but feeling immensely satisfied and positively glowing with joy and triumph. There, let anyone beat that. How could anyone even come close to what they had just achieved?

"That was amazing!" Chandler panted, prostrate and spent beside her and quite unaware that he was echoing her thoughts.

"Phoebe and Gary are **soo** gonna hear about this at dinner ...!" Monica vowed, already considering how much she could go into detail while still remaining true to her original resolution not to divulge too much.

"That was amazing ..!" Chandler repeated, still dazed.

"We are the hottest! Huh? **No one** is hotter than we are! You're the best." Yes, he was. She couldn't have done it without him.

And of course he protested. "No, you're the best."

"No, you're the best."

"No, you're the best." Okay, maybe he had a point. The idea with the sheet had been hers after all.

"I **am** the best."

And it felt soo good. Even if it should turn out that Phoebe wouldn't be impressed or maybe even manage to get one up on her, she still had this to fall back on. They had done it again, as hot and fiery and satisfying as always, the same as when they had started their relationship, and no end in sight, even after half a year. Their flame was still on fire.

And she would do everything to make sure it remained that way.


	9. Pretty incredible

Chandler loved his new toy. It was so cool. At the time he hadn't really been able to understand Phoebe's obsession with Gary's badge, but now that her new cop boyfriend had presented him with a badge of his own (which looked almost real, or at least real enough) he finally saw the attraction. It was so much cooler and more useful than the gun, and much easier to handle while being much less dangerous too – he was really grateful that Gary hadn't let him borrow that thing before he'd had a chance to think it through. And that too had definitely upped the hunky cop in his esteem considerably, elevating him from 'quite decent catch for Phoebe' to 'totally admirable bud'. If only he had a better sense of humor, but apparently being a cop and funny too didn't work outside the movies, and the gift of the badge really more than made up for it. He wasn't about to run around looking for good deeds to pull off, but he was pretty sure he could put the badge to some really good use regardless. There were so many possibilities after all. He could make Ross so jealous with it, and maybe Joey too if his roomie managed to tear himself away from his hopeless chase of the elusive hot girl any time soon. On Monday he could impress his colleagues with it, just casually holding the lapel of his coat open to let them have a glimpse of it in the elevator or at the drinking fountain. Maybe show it off at the dry cleaners too by pretending to forget it as he handed in his coat and taking it back to retrieve it, or even pull it on that funny pizza delivery girl sometime … And of course, best of all, use it to fool around with Monica. Though things had gotten pretty steamy this afternoon already – he really had to hand it to her, that idea with the sheet had been so mindboggling hot and exciting it still made him break out in goosebumps whenever the memory caught up with him – he still thought he could pull off a repeat performance with a little added touch of his own. After all they needed to make the most of the two days they had left until she would go on her period again. So maybe tonight she could wait for him in her bedroom all wrapped in the sheet and he would badge her as he entered more or less forcefully (depending on whether she would allow him to kick in the door if he took care not to leave any noticeable damage), barking 'Freeze!' just as she started to drop the sheet in mock fright, then tell her sternly that he needed to check for concealed weapons or something. Just thinking about it got him hot under his collar again and he couldn't wait for the dinner to be over, much like years ago when he'd had to attend some indeterminable dinner function or something when he'd much rather have been home watching some good porn – only this was a lot worse. What was keeping them so long anyway? Surely it was in Gary's and Phoebe's best interest too if they didn't draw this out too long, judging by the way they kept playing footsies and grinning goofily at each other while Monica was still hot on her rampage to win that contest of the hottest couple. Make that the completely imaginary contest, since he was quite sure that Gary and Phoebe were not even remotely interested in joining in it. For what it was worth he personally wouldn't be either if his part hadn't been so enjoyable so far. Plus if there was one thing he had learned in the past half year – hell, even the past eight years – it was that once Monica was on a mission there was no stopping her, come hell or high-water, and it was always preferable to wait until the storm had blown over. And enjoy the ride, however tiring it could be. And just thinking about the latest ride, how gloriously it had taken him to the limit and beyond, and how he couldn't wait to take it up where they had left it after Joey had caught them in their much needed recovery phase on the couch had him stifle a yawn.

"You tired Chandler?" Phoebe asked seemingly solicitous, though he suspected that she wanted this dinner to end as much as he did. Maybe if he went to the bathroom his absence would move them to break it up even sooner. He didn't really need to go, but a little prophylactic pit-stop never hurt – and the more he thought about it, the more urgent the need got at once. As usual.

"You better believe he's tired, after the day we had! If you know what I mean. You know what I mean?" Monica was grinning manically, completely oblivious of the fact that Phoebe and Gary were less than impressed. Overshooting the mark as usual – it was times like these that he couldn't help realizing how much alike Monica and Ross were and how many traits they shared.

"Honey, the tortilla chips know what you mean," he remarked wearily.

"So, uh Chandler, you like that badge I got you?" Gary, bless him, was trying to change the subject.

"Oh yeah, it's so cool!" Chandler got up and whisked his coat open so they could see how he'd pinned the badge to his inside pocket. "Now I gotta go, Officer Bing has got to, um, 10-100." Gary's blank stare brought home to him once more that what little humor the cop had wasn't yet quite attuned to his own particular brand, and he grinned apologetically. "That's pee-pee."

Unfortunately another guy beat him into the men's room just as he thought he would be alone there and he resigned himself for a hopefully short wait. At least the guy had the decency to go into a stall to do his business, and from what he heard while he waited it wouldn't take too long either, which was fortunate. As he pretended to wash his hands Chandler wished for the umpteenth time he could get over this idiotic inhibition. It was embarrassing and ridiculous, and he couldn't even begin to find a satisfactory explanation for it, but there it was - all his life he had been excruciatingly uncomfortable in public toilets, to the point where he found it impossible to take a leak at the urinal for fear someone else could come in while he was at it. And doing it in a stall was almost as bad, especially if there was someone in the next one. Maybe it had something to do with childhood memories of both of his parents uncaringly walking in on him when he was in the bathroom. The horrible incident when his hot schoolmate Susie had seduced him in the men's room only to steal his clothes and abandon him to his fate had done much to strengthen this phobia. He still shuddered at the memory of how Joey and Ross had made him walk through the restaurant wearing only Susie's pink panties and the stall door in exchange for a jacket and a cab to his apartment once he made it through the dining-room. If before that he had already been less than enthusiastic for doing it in a restroom, he now abhorred even the slightest notion in this regard.

To pass the time until the guy had finished he started to practice his moves in front of the mirror, flicking the coat open repeatedly to reveal the badge and trying to think up suitable lines. Ma'am, is this bedsheet your regular attire? Or have you mislaid your clothes? Have you –

"Hi Chandler ...!"

What the hell? There was Monica behind him, with that particular fixed smile she had when she was on the prowl for something. But what was she doing here? Unless -

"Monica! This is the men's room!" For a horrible moment was actually afraid that he'd gone to the wrong toilet, but then he remembered the guy in the other stall. "Isn't it?"

"Yes it is." Was it him or was Monica breathing harder? Oh god, had the other guy farted? What if she thought it was him?! But no … "You see I've always found the men's bathroom very sexual. Haven't you?"

Dear god, the very idea. Chandler actually winced as Monica advanced on him with a seductive smile, her eyes shining dangerously.

"No. And if I did, I don't think we'd be going out." He caught hold of her hands when she tried to grab him, excruciatingly aware of the sudden tense silence from the other stall. "Okay, I don't want to disappoint you and I **really** don't want to disappoint the guy in the second stall - sorry, man." He shrugged apologetically as the guy quite abruptly vacated both the stall and the room, without looking at them, let alone washing his hands – not that he could blame him. As soon as the door had safely closed behind him, he turned back to Monica, who had the grace to look a little abashed. "But come on, this is getting ridiculous!"

That got her back on track. "Come on, we **can't** let them win!"

Win at what? How could there be a question of winning the hot couple contest when Phoebe and Gary had only been doing it for a little over a week and with him in a really demanding job too?

"Ugh, we have already proved that we are hot! Okay? So why - why are you getting so obsessed about this thing?!"

"Because Phoebe and Gary are in that-can't-keep-their-hands-off-each-other-doing-it-in-the-park phase!"

"So?"

Her shoulders slumped. "I feel really sad that we're not … really there anymore."

So that was it really. He hadn't given it much thought, accepting the fact that the desperate horniness and urgency of their first weeks had gradually given way to no less hot but somewhat calmer and steadier desire as a matter of course as their relationship continued, and until now he'd assumed that Monica would see it the same way. It was her after all who valued the solidity and stability of their relationship above all else.

"Oh wow! Is that what this all has been about?"

"Wasn't it a lot more exciting when we were, you know, all over each other all the time?"

A lot? Maybe. Very much so in fact. But he also remembered all the doubts and anxieties when they hadn't been sure this thing they had was worth pursuing, would stand the test of time, was in fact for real and not a foolish fantasy that would end in misery and tears, and the loss of their friendship.

"Yeah that was great. That was really great! But to tell you the truth, I'm more excited about where we are right now."

"Really?

"Yeah! I've never been in a relationship that's lasted this long before." And where he'd felt this stable and safe too. That honeymoon phase was fine - for beginners and he was pretty sure they could safely consider themselves much more advanced now. "You know, to get past the beginning and still be around each other all the time, I think that's pretty incredible. And the fact that this is happening all with you, yeah I think that's pretty exciting." He drew her gently to him and kissed her cheek, heaving a sigh of relief when her expression softened.

"That is so sweet!" She laughed a little embarrassed at herself. "I know that I was acting a little crazy but … I actually feel the same way."

Chandler looked searchingly at her. "Yeah?"

"Yes." She confirmed and opened her arms to him for a hug. He held her close, breathing in her scent and almost glowing with triumph. Yes! He'd made her see reason again, got her to shake off that crazy obsession and made her realize how foolish her freak-out had been – in fact …

"You know what I just realized? You just freaked out about our relationship." His glee rose when she looked indignant.

"Did not!"

"Yes you did! Admit it! You freaked out!" Finally he was the sensible, calm one, the voice of reason, the safety net of their relationship. It felt so good.

"Okay, I freaked out a little." Now Monica even admitted it! Would wonders never cease?

"A little?! You freaked out big time! Okay? And **I** fixed it! We have switched places!" Chandler felt unable to contain himself as his joy bubbled over. " **I** am the relationship king and you are the crazy, irrational screw up! You-hoo-hoo!" Only when her glare gave way to a smug smile he realized that his triumph had set him dancing, cavorting and hopping around in total foolish abandon. Right, so much for being the reasonable and mature one. Way to go. "And now we're back."

"Aw." When his shoulders slumped resignedly, Monica's smile turned solicitous, and she came back to hug him and pat his head indulgently. "But actually I prefer it that way." They grinned at each other in perfect understanding, but just as he wanted to kiss her again, the door was opened, jerking them apart. Before the rather confused looking elderly guest outside could react Chandler hurriedly pushed past him drawing Monica along. When they reached the door of the dining-room however, she held him back.

"Wait – we still have to synchronize our stories –," His incredulous stare made her wince, but she held her ground. "Just this once! Please? I can't let Phoebe think –" And when he crossed his arms in mock exasperation, though barely containing his glee, she almost started to fret. "Don't make me beg!"

Chandler sighed theatrically. "Okay, but what does it matter really? Even if we tell the same story, do you really think she'll believe us?" When her chin came up defiantly, he shrugged and held the door open for her. "They'll probably have left by now anyway."

"What? Nooo!"

Chandler grinned. "Wanna bet?"

With a final glare she turned away to stride purposefully toward the main dining-room, only to find that he'd been right. The birds had indeed flown, leaving the table abandoned with the unpaid bill rather pointedly placed on his plate. Chandler contented himself with a smug grin while he drew out Monica's chair for her, though everything inside almost screamed at him to do the dance again. Monica sat down and stared bitterly at the two vacated chairs across from her.

"They really could have waited until –"

"Honestly? I would have left too. With you of course" he hastened to add when she directed her patented death glare at him. "Um, remember last year, when we were at Ross' and he kept on and on with his slides?" Her determined effort not to smile lasted for almost ten seconds, then the corners of her mouth started to twitch almost involuntarily and he heaved a sigh of relief.

"When you pretended to check your messages and told him there was one from Treeger that the birds had gotten into the trash shute? Yeah, too bad Joey and Phoebe had to spoil it by leaving too."

"Yeah. But my point is, we were the same back then."

"But they didn't know that we were together then!"

"So? What difference does it make?"

Her shoulders slumped again in frustration. "I know! I know it doesn't matter! Except … except it does. To me it does."

He put an arm around her and pulled her close. "I know."

"No, you don't. You don't care."

"Maybe not. No, actually you're right, I really don't care." When she glared at him he smiled broadly. "Because, how can I really when we're soo far ahead of them?"

"Ahead?"

"Yes! Think about it. They've been together how long now, a week? And today is our half year's anniversary PLUS one week. You see? No matter how long they're together they'll always be one half year behind us. Half a year!"

She stared at him, her mouth slowly opening, then she threw her arms around his neck. "Yes! Oh my god, you're right! We're ahead of them!"

He bit back his original reply 'Unless we split up' at the very last moment, changing it to a cough and congratulating himself for another narrow escape – almost as close as the day before when he'd unthinkingly voiced his intention to check out Joey's elusive hot girl and only saved himself from total disaster at the very last moment. Seemed like he was really starting to get the hang of these unwritten rules of a relationship – realizing when something could be said out loud and gotten away with safely, and when not.

"Huh?"

"Um, I meant to say, even if Phoebe and Gary will be together in half a year – which I seriously doubt – I'm sure they won't be as hot together as we still are."

That got her eyes sparkling again.

"You really think they won't last?"

"Absolutely. I give them 4 months. Five max."

"Aw. Wanna bet?"

"Bet? Um, no … well … what's your stake?!"

.

.

"Freeze!"

"Huh?! Ooh my god, officer, you really frightened me …!"

"Sorry, ma'am, just doing my duty."

"Ooh, er, is there a problem ... officer?!"

"Um, we've just had reports of very suspicious hot activities around here. Ma'am? Are you alone?"

"Of course I am! Um, hot activities …?"

"Yes. Very suspicious too. Ma'am, would you please raise your hands while I check for hot spots and concealed weapons ..."

"Oh, um, like this …? Only I'm sure there's no illegal hotness here – or here ..."

"Please let me be the judge of that. Um. Ah. Aha! There it is! Now this, um, attire's what I'd call very hot indeed! I'm afraid I'll have to write you up for that -"

"Really? Oh dear, I didn't realize it was too hot. I'll take it off at once - oh, I'm so sorry, officer, is this getting too hot for you? Do you need to cool down maybe?"

"Well … I'm afraid, this is almost too hot to handle for me. I think I need to take to take off my clothes too – ooooh. Oh my god. Whew … um. Um, Ma'am?"

"Yes?"

"Would you mind doing that agai – ooooh, aahhh, oh god …"

"Do you feel better now, officer?"

"Ooh … um, ah – absolutely, ma'am. So so much better."


	10. Either That or This

A/N: I'm truly sorry this took so long again. But although it may look like it, I really didn't wait so I could publish it today, on Matthew Perry's birthday, it just worked out like that. Just a lucky co-incidence. Also with Chandler's birthday in this chapter which I didn't plan either - I'd already established April 19th. as the date in my other fic 'Worth a Shot' - so more lucky co-incidence. You can never have enough of those anyway!

A note for the readers who only know the TV version of "TOW Rachel smokes": this "Either that or this" scene is actually canon, though it's only included in the uncut versions - unfortunately as I think it's quite important and really a key scene with regard to Chandler's smoking habit.

.

.

.

Monica hated to even think about it, even tried to avoid it altogether, but to no avail. It had to be faced. And dealt with too, though she had no idea how to go about it. Yet. But there was no way around it anymore.

Chandler wanted to smoke again. Maybe even had already. She could tell that he was thinking about it – though she wasn't sure if he had ever really stopped thinking about it on some level.

The whole thing was so annoying. Every time he had relapsed and started that horrible habit again, she had congratulated herself that she – and the others too, of course – had once more managed to drag Chandler away from cigarettes and hopefully for good this time. Except there would always come a time when he would come close to giving in to that disgusting addiction again and they would come close to despairing of ever curing him from it. That last time two years ago had been so weird, with his strange reaction to the hypnosis tape that she had tried her best to forget about, so now when that old trouble resurfaced again it disturbed her even more, because she had somehow felt that their being together in a stable relationship would keep him safely away from the coffin nails. In fact she had been so sure about it that she had never so much as wasted a single thought on the subject. Until now. And now that it had come up, it threw her for a loop. If she acted on her first instinct and made a scene, threaten him with all kinds of dire consequences if he so much as looked at a cigarette, she might very well lose him before long, or at the very least put him on the defensive, and ultimately get him to resent her. And that would lead to her hating herself for being too harsh, too shrill, too sanctimonious, for giving in to those needs deep inside her that told her that she needed to stamp on this dirty habit before it could evolve further, exorcise it regardless of his feelings and the danger to their relationship.

Clearly that was the wrong way to go. As was the less harsh version of nagging him, persisting in showing him how harmful and hazardous smoking was. That was how her mother had handled it – still did as far as she knew – and it had never once stopped her dad from sneaking a smoke whenever he really wanted it. To her knowledge.

No, she had to do it differently. Treat the whole thing as amusing and maybe a little annoying, laughing at his jokes about the dead tree in the flowerpot where they'd put out their cigarettes at his work, and his diminished lung capacity, keep smiling when he called out Rachel for smoking and then even scooted closer and tried to inhale as much of her smoky smell as he could. Always keep it light, mildly irritating at best, not make a big deal out of it while keeping a close eye on him all the time, just in case he might change his mind and start again. Then, and only then would be the time to act.

But it was so hard. If only there wasn't so much else to worry about right now. She had already gotten Chandler's birthday planned down to every last minute when Phoebe came up with her admittedly great idea for a surprise party for Rachel to celebrate her new job. Her smoky job at Smokey Smokeyson's – ugh. One of the reasons she had agreed so enthusiastically was how she could use all the planning and preparations to hide all her work for Chandler's party, use it as a smokescreen as it were, pun not intended (she really seemed to have smoke on her mind now). And then of course she had gotten a little, well, carried away. She just couldn't help it, never had, and you would think that Phoebe of all people would know her well enough to anticipate that. But no, Phoebe had to go all insulted and sulking just because her hasty scribbles on a paper towel could never compete with her lovingly and carefully drawn and filed plans. And come to think of it, Phoebe had been getting more and more annoying lately. Her latest habit of starting almost every conversation with 'Are you and Chandler still together?' was especially irritating. No matter how she reacted to that - bewildered, amused, irritated, even sarcastic - nothing worked. Even if she ignored the question, Phoebe would still put on that wise, knowing look that made her want to strangle her. Okay, she knew that the main reason for that behavior would be Gary pulling double shifts all week on a demanding and grueling surveillance job, but all that still didn't excuse everything. On top of it all, just when she had started to consider apologizing to her for not leaving her anything to do apart from the cups, Phoebe had somehow managed to turn her cups into a roaring success, leaving her dead in the water with all her decorations, invitations, music, games and food. Her lovingly prepared Tuscan finger-food. It was enough to drive a grown woman to drink. Or even smoke.

At least it was Friday, the start of the weekend that concluded their 30th week together. 30 weeks! But as she had to watch while Chandler ooohd and aaahd over Phoebe's stupid cup range of selection she found it hard to find comfort in that thought. Especially since he hadn't even looked at her Tuscan finger food. But at least he wasn't smoking, unless Phoebe also provided ice smokes in cups – she couldn't really put it past her.

"Great job with the cups, Pheebs!" Did he really need to sound so sincere? She just couldn't help it, she had to let some of the accumulated frustration out lest it choked her.

"Why don't you just go out with her!"

Chandler was just starting to put on his wounded puppy look when Phoebe distracted him even further.

"And did you notice the ice?" Monica thought even Chandler would be hard put not to see those giant buckets, and all over her kitchen table too. But oh well, as long as Phoebe paid for them …

"Look! We have it all! We have crushed! Cubed! And dry! Watch!" Oh wonderful, more smoke. Granted, it was only water, but what if it reminded Chandler of the other kind of smoke?

"Ahhh! Mystical!"

"Awesome!"

"Chandler!" She simply couldn't hold it in anymore, even at the risk of sounding whiny. "Everyone - no one's eating my Tuscan finger food 'cause they're all filling up on Phoebe's snow cones!"

Chandler's eyes grew wide. "There are snow cones?!" He caught himself just in time as she glared at him. "Snow cones! Yuck!"

Monica relented while making a mental note to add snow cones to his birthday party. "You know … go! Go! Right there!" After all she did not want to be like her mother. Never that. Anything but that.

"Thank you! Thank you!" Chandler all but flew to the snow cone machine which she hoped would not start any associations with smoking in his mind. Monica decided to cut her losses and approached Phoebe who still presided over her ice buckets.

"Phoebe? You really did do a nice job."

"Thank you...for stating the obvious." Still, Phoebe seemed to be thawing a little.

"I deserve that. I just want you to know that, umm, if we ever cohost a party together again you can do whatever you want." Phoebe's face lit up.

"You know, Joey's got a birthday coming up."

Joey? Oh, that habit of his to co-celebrate Chandler's birthdays as if it was a 'little' birthday of his own - except that it didn't make him older and he could mooch all the attention. "Really? What do you want to do?"

"Umm, okay, I'd like to be in charge of beer."

Right, the one and only really essential thing for any of Joey's parties. Why wasn't she surprised?

"Well, then there's nothing left for me!"

Of course Rachel had to enter at that moment when they were all distracted and thereby almost spoiling the surprise moment. But at least she seemed suitably overtaken and genuinely touched.

"What?! My birthday's not for another month!"

"That's the surprise!"

"Oh my God! You guys this is so great!" As it should be. While she loved birthdays – who didn't? – Rachel hated the fact that each birthday meant that she got to be one year older, so a birthday party without any advance in age involved had to be perfect for her. In fact Monica wished she could get the same thing. What was it about Rachel that always got her to be so spoiled and showered with attention all the time? But at least she seemed genuinely pleased.

"I mean it's so unexpected! And Chandler's birthday is even before mine!"

And not for another three days either, but of course everybody had to act suddenly as if they'd completely forgotten about his birthday – as if! – and lamely try to include him in the surprise. And of course Chandler had to play along, putting on a glum face while he grimly chewed on his snow cone and waved their efforts away. Typical. Monica resolved there and then to do everything in her power to make his birthday a perfect surprise. And not just one. Maybe show him and the others how it was done properly. Yes, Chandler had managed her own birthday two weeks ago quite decently – he had made her breakfast, given her both 'official' and 'inofficial' presents, showered her with attention and even managed to find a good restaurant that was open on Mondays to take her to dinner – but there was always room for improvement. She was quite sure she could top all that easily.

But when she walked over to her boyfriend to assure him that she hadn't forgotten his birthday, the words almost died on her lips when she saw what he doing. He had grabbed Rachel's purse that she had left on a side table and was now actually rummaging in it. She didn't want to admit it, but deep down she knew exactly what he was looking for.

"Chandler, what are you doing?"

He froze and even tried to hide the bag behind his back.

"Nothing …"

"What's in your hand?"

"Money!" He said wildly. "I'm stealing all the money!"

"Chandler." As usual that special no-nonsense tone in her voice got through to him and he put the purse down revealing the pack of cigarettes.

"But just one, okay? Because nobody knows when my birthday is!"

Even though she was very much aware that it was half joking and half random remarks he didn't really mean, she felt the sting and had to step down hard on the impulse to lash out at him. Making a scene would accomplish nothing and make everything worse. Still she had to take a deep breath.

"Let me make this clear to you okay? It's either that –", she pointed to the cigarettes in his hand "- or this." And she pointed at herself.

For a long moment he seemed undecided, looking from the pack in his hand and then to her, his face almost blank of expression, until she felt herself starting to waver. Had that been too much? Would he feel bossed around by her, was she being unfair? But in the last moment he relinquished the cigarettes and turned to wrap his arms around her and hold her close. And as she let out the breath she hadn't realized she had been holding in he put his mouth near her ear.

"They were menthol."

"Aw!" She hit him playfully, too relieved to care that he wasn't taking it seriously. Now was not the time anyway.

.

She had firmly resolved not to talk to Chandler about his smoking until they were in bed together or even preferably in the morning before they got up. At the very least she wanted to wait until Rachel had gone to bed and they were alone. But it was no use. As always when something upset and frustrated her, it continued to seethe and boil under the surface of her mind, just waiting for a chance to erupt out of her in spite of all her resolves. So when she saw Rachel heading nonchalantly to her room without even a token offer to help with the clearing up, picking up her purse on the way, the words seemed to fly out of her mouth on their own accord with no way to stop them.

"Better check that your cancer sticks are still in there, if you need them tomorrow, Rach –"

As Rachel turned and frowned, Monica wished she could take her words back. As always, and of course it was no use, also as always. At least Chandler was out taking the trash to the chute.

"What? Why would anybody steal my cigarettes?" When she didn't reply, Rachel looked at her in exaggerated puzzlement that Monica was sure was only pretense.

"It's – it's okay, I just thought you shouldn't let them lie around like that. Someone could – could be tempted."

Rachel's eyes widened in affected shock. "What? Oh my god! But they're just –"

"Menthol?" Once more, for the umpteenth time Monica wished that just for once in her life she would be able to just shut up.

"Well, yeah, I thought I'd try those, but actually they're just as disgusting as the regular ones. If anybody wants them, he's welcome. I can always get new ones."

"Ugh! Please, don't leave them here! Take them with you or throw them away, okay?" Suddenly she had an idea. "You know I can't sleep if those – things – still lie around here."

"Okay, okay!" Rachel hurriedly stuffed the pack back into her purse. "Don't worry, I'll make sure to keep them from Chandler." And with that last remark thrown over her shoulder she darted into her bedroom before Monica could think of anything in reply. It frustrated her so much that all her resolutions went over board as soon as Chandler came back in, his cheerful whistling dying on his lips when he noticed her expression.

"Whoa! What's going on?"

She gritted her teeth. Why was this so hard? Why couldn't she just tell him to stop smoking?

"Um, nothing, just … Rachel."

"Oh, did she buy regular cigarettes?" When he saw her face he actually took a step back. "Forget I said that, forget I said that!"

Monica silently counted to ten in her mind, taking deep breaths with it. When Chandler kept peeking at her worriedly, it made her smile in spite of herself.

"You know, about that smoking, there's just one thing I don't understand –"

"Just one thing? Really?"

She studiously ignored his sarcastic tone.

"Why don't you just buy cigarettes?"

"Buy cigarettes? But then I'd have to smoke them!"

"I don't understand. You want to smoke, do you? You're thinking about it all the time."

"Let me put it this way. Why don't you buy mint cookies?"

"What?"

"You love them. When Ross sold you eight cartons and then cut you off, you went crazy. You searched Ross's apartment three times. Mine too. Everybody's."

And it had taken her weeks to get over that terrible craving. Even the memory of that awful withdrawal period made her shudder.

"So I could ask the same question. Why don't you just buy yourself a box of cookies?"

"Because a box wouldn't be enough and then … alright, I get it. If you bought cigarettes, you wouldn't be able to stop, right?"

"Yeah, mostly. Of course that would also be too easy. And dull."

"So instead you go around stealing and sneaking cigarettes."

"Scrounging them off people" he agreed cheerfully. "I'm a joker, I'm a sneaker, I'm a midnight smoker … I smoke my ciggies on the sly …" It took Monica a moment to identify the tune he had adapted to his words as The Joker by the Steve Miller Band and she just couldn't help smiling. Chandler grinned with relief and sidled closer to her.

"Lovey-dovey, lovey-dovey, all the tii-ime …"

She let him put his arms around her, but held back when he tried to kiss her to look at him sternly.

"And all that just so you can tell yourself you're not really a smoker?"

"Maybe. I don't know, Mon." He brought his face a bit closer to her, brushing his lips across her cheek. "But I do know that ever since we've been together I never once even thought about smoking. Right until Rachel started it and her smell wafted right into the smoking section of my brain."

"Really?"

"Yes, really and truly. You're smoking hot enough for me anyway."

"Aw."

"What about you?"

"What do you mean? I don't smoke! I never smoked in my life!"

"How long has it been since you thought about mint cookies?"

"I never think of mint cookies! Well … not anymore." When he put his head on the side and winked at her, she clenched her teeth. "It's true!"

"Alright! Shshsh. I believe you!" He put a hand on the back of her neck to push her head against his shoulder, stroking her hair gently. "I know you do. And now I also know why we don't get any brownies visiting anymore. I used to think Ross had scared them off, but now …"

There were so many things she dearly wanted to tell him. Explanations, arguments, accusations, clarifications – all that and much more. But standing so close to him, with her face pressed against his chest and feeling his arms around her holding her tight, his mouth slowly seeking out those sensitive spots on her neck where his soft kisses always made her knees go weak and her nipples harden until it felt as if they would poke right through her shirt, drove every thought right out of her mind until there was only room for desire – and a sense of blissful happiness that slowly but surely smoothed over all her feelings of frustration and discontent.

When she raised her head at last, it was only to allow him access to her throat and the areas under her chin which he duly kissed, holding her to him so she could lean back in his arms with her eyes closed. Soon she was bending backwards so far he had to tighten his grip around her middle as he started to kiss her cleavage and push the edges of her red shirt even further down. When she couldn't take it anymore, she started to backpedal without even opening her eyes, trusting him to steer her clear of all the furniture and take her straight to the bedroom. Which he did, even going so far as to pick her up bodily when they reached the small landing in front of the big window and carry her to the bedroom door and through, even making it to her bed without having to let her down and not even that much puffing. Then she was lying across the bed on her back and staring into his eyes as he held himself up over her.

"You know – those leather pants look so great on you …" He did sound a little out of breath, but she generously chalked it up to his desire.

"Really?"

"Oh yeah. And you should wear red more often. It's soo hot!"

"Mmmh." Now she almost purring. She couldn't help it, compliments did that for her.

"Red smoking hot – oops …"

She lazily opened her eyes halfway and smiled when she saw him cringe at her look.

"It's okay. Mmmmh … Yes, there … ooohhh …"

When he lowered himself over her and started to rub himself on her hips and abdomen, her hands clenched into the fabric of his shirt over his back and she kissed him desperately, squirming and twisting under him. Then her shirt came off, followed by her bra. But just when he had started sucking and licking her nipples and she was clawing urgently at his jeans, something occurred to her and she pushed him back slightly, trying to sit up.

"Did you close the door?"

"What? Um – oh, ah, you mean that door … Guess not."

Indeed the door of her bedroom was still standing half open, allowing anyone who passed that way a good look at their activities on the bed. Monica sighed and tried to get up, but Chandler beat her to it. The way he nimbly pushed himself off the bed, almost catlike landing on his feet and rushed to the door suddenly reminded her of that awful trip to Atlantic City when he had gotten off the bed in the hotel just as fast and gracefully so they could look at other rooms. Her mood that day had been even worse and it had gotten the better of her before he had a chance to make her feel better. She suddenly realized that since then he had gotten really good at it – changing her mood, diverting her, making her feel good, in short always showing her a good time. Like now when he not only closed the door but turned the key and then pretended to slide bolts shut all over it and hammering nails into the crack for good measure, until she couldn't stop laughing. At last he danced back to her, pulling his shirt over his head on the way and kicking his shoes off before jumping on the bed and into her waiting arms. As soon as his arms went around her again and she felt her breasts pressing against his chest, her skin rubbing his, she went crazy with desire. The last clear thought that registered in her mind was regret that those leather pants were too damn tight to get out of in a hurry. When he couldn't remove them by pushing them off her hips Chandler finally scooted off the bed to pull them away from her by the cuffs. Of course as soon as she was freed of them and her thong too and was feeling the air cooling her wetness she simply couldn't wait until he got back on top but wrapped her legs around him while he was still standing at the edge. And Chandler, bless him, remained where he was and just bent over so he could lift her up until he could push inside her. Feeling him sliding in made her scream in wild abandon, and when it later occurred to her that Rachel would certainly have heard her (she kept complaining that not even the earbuds of her Walkman plus a pillow around her head would keep out the noise once Monica really got going) she simply couldn't bring herself to care. At all.

.

.

Three days later…

"You did what?!"

"It was just one little drag. One! Come on, it's my birthday, and everybody was smoking like there was no tomorrow –"

"It's past midnight, so it's not your birthday anymore."

"But when I did it, it still was. Come on, you promised not to nag me about it!"

"And you promised you wouldn't smoke!"

"It was one drag. She practically pushed the cigarette right into my mouth!"

"She?! Who, Rachel?"

"No. I think it was her boss."

"You took a drag from the cigarette of Rachel's – oh wow. Wow!"

"Yeah, that reminds me, could we maybe spend this week over here? You know, until Rachel -"

"Wow. Oh wow. I can't wait for Rachel to find out you smoked her boss's cigarette. Oh my! You're going to be in soo much trouble!"

"It was my birthday!"

"That doesn't excuse it, but you know what? It's okay."

"Really?"

"Yeah. Rachel's boss, the one that got her smoking … that's just priceless. But don't do it again!"

"I won't. I don't need it anyway, I've got enough smoking hotness right here."

"Awww!"


	11. The Luckiest Man in the World

There was no doubt about it for Chandler, he really was the luckiest man in the world. Especially and foremost right now upon their return from the very enjoyable if rather rushed (and expensive) sojourn at Jean-Georges after he had just managed to steer Monica into #19 without any real resistance on her part. The decisive factor had probably been that Joey was still out so they had the place to themselves - unlike at her apartment where Rachel was probably still up and itching to hear about every single detail of their evening while trying to delay their bedtime at the same time. Chandler suspected that Monica felt rather the same about that prospect and silently rejoiced while he relieved her of her jacket and then pulled her close for a long and lingering kiss in the living-room. When he let his hands roam over her back and down to her hips and buttocks she squirmed and pressed closer, giggling and cooing softly.

"Mmmh …oh yes … um, why don't you wait for me in the bedroom while I take this off –"

"What? The dress? Ummm … could you - couldn't you … leave it on … for now?"

"Chandler! But …"

"It's sooo hot! I mean, you, you look so hot. Please leave it on. Please?"

"Oh god, you really want to do me while I'm still –"

"YESS!" To emphasize his point he started to steer her towards his bedroom while making a big show of leering and panting and scraping at the carpet with his feet. "I'll leave my suit on too!"

She laughed out loud at that and then suddenly looked thoughtful. "Really? Your jacket too?"

"And the tie!" They had reached the door now and he kicked it shut behind them without taking his mouth off hers. Then they stood in front of his bed, groping and feeling each other up, and he bent down a little to kiss her on her neck and cleavage. When he felt around under her dress for the edge of her hose and thong and then hooked this thumbs under them to push them down she squirmed under his hands, her breath hitching noticeably. She then wanted to take off her shoes but he stopped her.

"No … um, just get on the bed … no, on your knees … oh wow, oh god …"

He'd switched on his bedside lamp so he could look at her properly and now felt his own breath stop. Monica was on all fours with her back to him, her tight round little bottom under that hot red dress pointing at him invitingly, the rolled up panty hose and thong around her ankles even stressing the point further. She had turned her head slightly to look back at him over her shoulder, one strap of the dress trailing on her arm, her dark hair slightly mussed and the red lipstick that had held out all evening finally smearing a little. Although every inch of him was screaming at him to take hold of her and make love to her like there was no tomorrow he still just couldn't tear himself loose from the sight of her. So hot, almost sluttishly so, so perfect, so much any man's deepest desire, and all his own.

His alone. The luckiest man on earth.

Then Monica smiled at him and he realized that he had been gaping at her openmouthed as if under a spell, but he wasn't embarrassed – much - because he knew how much she loved it when he stared at her like that. It broke the spell however and he got on the bed with a deep sigh of content as he loosened his belt and tore down the zipper of his pants before bending over her from behind, pushing her dress up her back to kiss and lick the small of her back and her buttocks and fumbling at her pumps at the same time to get rid of the panty hose. Once it was off Monica immediately wrapped her legs around his and frantically rubbed her buttocks against his groin where his erection was straining urgently against his suit pants. While she fumbled behind her to free his penis from his boxer shorts he looked for and found the zipper on the back of her dress and drew it down until he could get at her breasts, cupping and kneading them with his hands. Impatient now she guided him in and they settled against each other, starting out slowly and hesitantly, fumbling and groping amidst much panting and moaning and finally picking up speed until he found himself almost slamming into her so fast his heart started to hammer in his ears and his breath was getting short. A lot of that was probably due to his tie that seemed to get tighter around his neck with each thrust, but he was long beyond caring. Monica had steadily been getting louder and was now screaming while she bucked against him and clawed at the sheets, and the bed under them was rattling and creaking at an increasingly alarming rate. Just when he thought both his suit jacket and his shirt would no longer be able to take the strain he felt her stiffening and tightening all around him as her orgasm overtook her. He still needed to go on although he tried to slow down and draw out his thrusts a bit longer. When he finally reached his climax too he collapsed over her, almost burying her under him as she lay on her stomach, panting and whimpering. For a long moment he remained like that, snuffling into her neck as he tried to get his breath back, then he pushed himself up and away from her and, sighing deeply, tried to take off his tie and then simply tore out of it when the knot wouldn't loosen. Then he got out of his jacket and lay down again next to Monica who had turned on her back again with her arms over her head, grinning like a runner coming in first at the finish line.

"Wow! Oh wow … How hot was that?!"

"It's you Mon. Just you." He slid a hand over her thigh up to her hips and kissed her at the same time. "Can't imagine why you haven't reduced me to a pathetic little heap of ashes already with all that hotness."

She wriggled against him and kissed him back, smiling widely, and he thought that she was even blushing a little though it could very well only be a remnant of the heat from their exertions. For some minutes they remained like that, lazily kissing and caressing each other until at length she drew back with a sigh and sat up.

"I'm sorry, but I really can't … that dress …"

"Yeah. I know. It's not ruined, is it?"

"No. What about your suit?"

"Well, I think it was touch and go for a while but it made it through – by the skin of its lapels. I think it'll live. Not sure about my tie though."

"Aw, let me see … There you go."

"Wow, how did you do that? I thought that damn thing was stuck for good!" Monica just smirked, then suddenly her expression changed and she bent over to look at a spot on the bedsheet.

"What is it?"

"Oh, nothing, just – I got lipstick on your sheet."

"Let me see. Aw, that's not so bad."

"Not bad? It'll probably won't come out!"

"So? It's an old sheet. You probably did it a favor. Think how envious the other old sheets will be when it goes to sheet heaven with lipstick on it …"

"Nice try. I think I can get it off -" But when she started to pull out the sheet from under the mattress Chandler stopped her.

"I don't think any of my sheets ever expected to get lipstick on them in the line of duty … Leave it, Mon, please? Oh, wait, I've got an idea."

"What? What are you doing?"

Chandler rummaged in the drawer of his nightstand until he found his nail scissors. Monica stared unbelievingly while he carefully cut around the lipstick spot and then held out the piece of cloth, neatly cut into the shape of a heart.

"For the box" he said simply. "You know, as a souvenir? Of our ten month anniversary?"

Monica's expression softened. "Aw … that's sooo …"

"Tacky?"

"No. No, it's sweet, but … you really shouldn't have cut it. I thought we already had a souvenir!"

"What, that paper umbrella from Jean-Georges? You didn't even finish that cocktail."

"There was no time! Talk about fast service - they didn't even let us see the menu!"

Chandler winced. "Yeah, sorry, but if you actually want to look at the menu you need to book a table one year in advance. At least that's what the maître d told me. Or maybe it was the maître e or even f ..."

"What?"

"Or unless you're actually the president of the United States. Or Jean-Georges in person. Then they'd up it to two months. Or one if it's in the slow season. Except they never have a slow season …"

"Chandler …!"

"Alright, I'm sorry, it was a bad idea."

"What? No, it was great! I thought I'd never get in there!" Monica took off her shoes and panty hose and got up from the bed, wriggling to shake out the creases in her dress. "Nobody I know has ever gotten in there! Even Rachel's father couldn't get in!"

Chandler couldn't help smirking broadly while silently congratulating himself on his idea of booking the table under his boss's name. If Doug ever got wind of it, he only needed to remind him of that unofficial office party at the start of the long July Fourth Weekend two weeks back. That should be enough to keep him in line.

Carrying their jackets and shoes they left the apartment again and let themselves into #20 as silently as possible, hoping against better knowledge that Rachel was already asleep. No such luck of course. They only made it as far as the couch in the living-room when Rachel put her head out of the door of her room, her eyes widening when she took in their disheveled appearance.

"Hey, you guys … whew! Naughty!"

Chandler grinned at her wryly, wishing – not for the first time – that he and Monica could have a place of their own. In the past couple of months he had toyed with the idea of living together every now and then, but always shrunk back from the concept. It was just too big a step yet, too big for their baby step program. But still, the idea as such, to be somewhere they could be alone for a couple of days, seemed quite attractive. He would have to think about that one. Maybe for the next monthly anniversary?

"Yeah, they thought we were the table-dancing act" he replied, accepting Monica's dig in his ribs good-naturedly. They had arrived at Monica's bedroom door when Rachel called out.

"Oh Monica, I, um, I found … you know. I found it!"

Monica came to a dead stop and for a moment seemed almost to panic.

"What? You found the – oh, great. Um, yeah, I'll talk to you in the mor-"

"I've got it here, look!"

Chandler went on ahead into the bedroom to take off his shoes while Monica and Rachel engaged in some short but apparently quite heated whispering. At last Monica came in and shut the door, a rather odd expression on her face.

"What was that about?" he asked and when she didn't reply at once, he looked up, a little alarm bell going off in his head. Monica stood before the bed, looking down on something in her hand, seemingly undecided about something. When he frowned at her, she took a deep breath.

"I – I guess it's no big deal, and I did want to let it go before, but now … I'm sorry, but I can't do that any more. Let it go, I mean."

"What's going on?" He tried to keep calm, but in his head he was already frantically reviewing all his possible sins and misdemeanors of the past days. Was it cigarettes again? He hadn't touched one for at least three weeks – well, two actually if that party game at the unofficial office party counted. Which it didn't. No way that could count. Or could it? How would she even know about that?

"Um, look, is this about the flirting thing again?"

But Monica just shook her head and held out her hand.

"What's that? Earrings? What about them?"

"You still don't know?"

He looked again and shrugged. "Well, they're quite nice, but –"

"Chandler! They're yours!"

"What? I don't wear earrings. Not since my father took his back –"

"Chandler." Argh, that tone again. This was getting serious. And then it finally dawned on him.

"Oh. You mean the ones I gave you? But aren't you wearing them right n-"

He put out a hand towards her head to push the hair back from her ear just like he'd done earlier that night. To look at her earrings. Though really he had barely glanced at them, only enjoying Monica's appearance in all its full glory and hotness. The whole package so to speak.

Monica slowly shook her head and screwed up her face.

"No! Those are different earrings. They don't even look the same!"

Chandler opened his mouth and shut it again.

"What? I'm sorry, but –"

"How could you not see that?! Didn't you pick them?"

"Well, yeah … but … are you sure they're not the right ones? Because they look amazing on y-"

"No!" Now she even stamped her foot. "I had to put on different ones because Rachel had lost them."

When Chandler gaped at her silently she turned away, her hands clenched.

"I know! I'm sorry, I shouldn't have let Phoebe borrow them, but she needed them so badly-"

"Wait, just now it was Rachel and now Phoebe?"

Monica glared at him. "But the point is, why didn't you notice?"

"Look, it's not a big deal, okay? They're just earrings –" he almost said 'not a real ring' but caught himself just in time.

"But you gave them to me! For our nine month anniversary! Of course it's a big deal!"

"Then why did you give them to Phoebe?"

"Why didn't you see that they were different?"

"Because they looked great on you!"

"And then you boasted about how you had the best taste!"

"Well, they looked so great, I just – I thought –" when she kept glaring at him he gave up.

"Alright, okay, I didn't pick them. Ross did."

"What? You let Ross pick –"

"I tried, okay? I was in that store and then I just couldn't decide! They all looked so great! I just – I just didn't want to pick a pair that would be wrong for you –"

"Chandler –"

Just then Rachel furtively knocked on the door and put her head in apologetically.

"Um, you guys, I'm trying to sleep, so could you maybe keep it down a little?" When they both gaped at her speechlessly she winced and drew back. "Just saying …"

For a moment it looked to Chandler as if Monica wanted nothing better than to jump at her friend's throat, then her shoulders slumped and she turned away with a mumbled apology. Rachel withdrew again and Chandler hurried to close the door and turn the key for good measure. Oh for a place of their own. The concept seemed more attractive each day … When he turned around again Monica was sitting on the bed, looking at the earrings in her hands dejectedly. For a fleeting moment Chandler wanted nothing more than to run, to stay away until the storm had passed again, but he pulled himself together manfully and went to her, kneeling down before her and cupping her hands that still held the earrings in his.

"Look, Monica, when I decided to get you earrings I really thought I could do it, that it wasn't such a big deal. But then I was in that shop and it was almost closing time, and the only thing I could think was what if she doesn't like them? What if they're the wrong kind? And then suddenly it was a big deal and I just couldn't do it."

"So you let Ross pick them? Ross of all people?"

"Well, he's been married twice already –", when she glared at him he winced. "I know. But at least I didn't ask Joey!"

The corners of her mouth twitched at that and Chandler furtively breathed a little easier.

"But … but Ross! How could you even think he'd pick the right ones?"

"Are they that horrible?"

Monica winced. "No, they're not horrible. Actually they're … quite nice."

"Ugh. Just nice?"

"Yes. Nice. Not special, but not bad either. Just like these actually." She started to take off the earrings she was wearing, smiling wryly at the unspoken question on his face.

"They're … they're from Pete."

"Pete? Oh, the millionaire? He bought earrings for you?"

"No, he didn't." Monica looked sad again. "Turned out he was too busy to buy them himself, so his secretary picked them."

Chandler winced. "Monica, I'm sorry. I promise that next time –" He broke off when she shushed him.

"No, it's okay. Don't promise anything you can't keep."

He shook his head. "I won't. In fact, next time, if I can't decide I'll let you pick them. Come to think of it, I still got the receipt, so – if you want we could exchange them?"

That made her smile. "But that's Rachel's thing."

"No, it'll be different, because we'll pick them together." He put his arms around her waist and adopted his best wounded puppy look. "Is that okay?"

For a moment she wavered, considering and he held his breath, then she smiled. "Yeah, that's okay." And when he heaved an audible sigh of relief, her smile broadened. "And I promise I won't let anyone borrow them."

"Aw. Not even me?" He grinned, sliding a hand under the hem of her dress. "Kidding. But I could keep them in my jewelry box for safety –"

Monica stared. "You have a jewelry box?"

"Yeah, I know. It was my father's, and my mother wanted to throw it away when he left, but I took it out of the trash again. I keep it for cuff links and stuff." He frowned up at her. "What? I thought everybody knew that. I know Phoebe does. And Joey!"

"Well I didn't. Can I see it?"

"Sure, it's in my room. Um, you mean now?" He raised himself a little to lean in for a kiss, brushing his lips over her cheek and down her jaw and neck until she pushed him away by the shoulders.

"Um … no, I really need to get changed now. Ugh, Chandler, stop it …"

Reluctantly he let her go and sat on the bed beside her, sighing. "Right, but make it quick, okay? I miss that dress already."

Monica just smiled and took down her robe from its hook behind the door. "Put your suit on that hanger, okay?"

"Bye, dress …" he waved after her wistfully, rejoicing inside when it got her to smile. While she was in the bathroom, he took off his clothes and obediently hung up the suit, even going so far as to shake out the pants before folding them over the hanger and adding his tie. After he'd put his shirt, underwear and socks in the hamper he put on his robe and walked to the bathroom to wait for her at the door. When she finally emerged, all freshend up, with her hair brushed and her face free from make-up, smelling of toothpaste and facecream, he caught hold of her for a long moment and even managed to steal a kiss or two until she pushed him away towards the bathroom, but giggling nevertheless. While he brushed his teeth it occurred to him – not for the first time either – that for the past three or four months they had already been as good as living together, albeit unofficially. They spent every night together, mostly at her place (much to Rachel's eternal chagrin when she found the bathroom blocked by him nearly every morning), and he had even started to keep some of his clothes in her bedroom, mostly underwear and sleepthings, but also a spare suit and a shirt or two. It still counted as baby steps in his mind, but the longer he thought about it the more it seemed to him that they were slowly but surely drawing closer together, adjusting to a common living routine. But as long as they went slow he didn't mind. Not at all in fact.

When he opened the door to her bedroom again, he came to a dead stop and could only gape. Monica had turned out the lights and lit a couple of candles, and now she was sitting on the bed with her legs drawn up, smiling widely at him as the soft light from the candles played on her skin and her skimpy lacy wisp of a nightie.

Her red nightie.

He'd had it dead right all along. Nope, no doubt about it, he was the luckiest man in the world. And about to get a whole lot luckier still.


	12. Close Call

When Monica let herself into her apartment again about an hour later it was still as quiet and peaceful as it had been when she had left it for her Sunday morning run. The angle of the morning sun shining into her big window had shifted a bit, otherwise there was no change. Of course it was Sunday morning, the time of the week that was solely and exclusively designated for sleeping in by both Rachel and Chandler, so it would have been surprising not to find it unchanged. And although Monica kept shaking her head at it and bemoaning the fact that both her roommate and her boyfriend preferred to sleep away one of the best parts of the day instead of improving their health and fitness, she knew deep down that she didn't want it any other way. Rachel actually did like to run on week mornings and would often join her, but she would invariably fall behind and complain that Monica set to hard a pace. Or keep chatting the whole time or stop to admire something in a shop window or fix a loose shoelace. And Monica knew better than to try and get Chandler to run. That one time three years ago when she had had to prod and chase him through the fitness regime she had set him to get him to lose weight, nagging and hounding him until they had ended up brawling on the sidewalk and she even had (quite accidentally) decked him had been enough. She still shuddered at the memories how he had continually tried to fight and trick her, even jumping into a cab rather than letting her drag him to the park for a run. After she had recovered from the low he had tricked her into as a last resort to get her off his back (and gotten over her grudge too) she had vowed to never try to be his fitness coach ever again, and she still kept to it though it wasn't easy. Especially on mornings like that, when it was still reasonably cool outside before the onset of the humid July heat. August heat actually since today was the first. A new month, and the completion of their 45th week. 45 weeks! Another two weeks and they would be 11 months together. And a mere seven more weeks until their one year anniversary. One whole year! If there was one thing she was sure about it was that she would not say or do anything that could jinx or jeopardize their arriving safely at that goal when they were that close. Not even nagging Chandler into morning runs with her, no matter how much it would benefit him. They were on the finish line and she was determined to keep it that way. Of course she fully intended to continue their relationship after that first anniversary, but she was equally determined not to expend too much thought on what would come afterwards. Not yet anyway. Right now she had set herself the goal of completing that first year. One year, the longest she had ever been in a relationship, and moreover one that was so serious and important, and so precious to her too. No matter what happened later, she wanted to be able to say that they had managed to stay together for one whole year, against all odds and probabilities. They had taken so many hurdles already, overcome so many obstacles, skirted around so many pitfalls. She had dealt with Chandler's insecurities and fears and he in turn had dealt with her quirks and obsessions, and together they had dealt with the problems that arose when real life intervened with romantic fantasy. So far it had worked. And she was going to continue to make it work, until the one year mark at least and after, come what may. But she would do so in baby steps. There were a lot of things she dearly wanted to establish already now, things like their living together, getting engaged and eventually getting married of course, but it was still too soon to even contemplate those things seriously. If she did that now, all her efforts would be endangered. Baby steps was the thing. The only thing that worked.

That it did work had been demonstrated to her just last night when Chandler had returned from that silly ride-along with Gary, still somewhat shaken by their fright when they'd thought a car's backfire had actually been a shot. After recovering from the scare, Chandler had been nearly outraged when everybody thought that Joey had tried to protect Ross instead of him. And when it turned out that Joey had only tried to save his precious sandwich (which had come as no surprise at all to Monica, because she knew Joey's set of priorities all too well) he had been very relieved and even joyful at first and later a bit resigned too, actually wondering if their friendship was changing now that he was spending so much time with her. Monica had listened to everything, trying hard not to laugh, or at least only in the right places, and otherwise agreeing noncommittedly. She'd even mentioned that she was going through the same process with Rachel, but all the while restrained herself from pointing out the obvious conclusion that a major change seemed to be imminent. It had seemed just too risky. Maybe after their one year anniversary, but not now. Now was too early. If anything he needed to realize it on his own.

When she entered her bedroom, Chandler was still fast asleep, lying on his side and with just a thin sheet covering him up to his chest. Moving as silently as possible she put her Walkman and headband away, then she cautiously sat on the edge of the bed to take off her shoes, unable to resist glancing at her sleeping boyfriend. She never could get over how peaceful his face looked when he was asleep, and how cute too. She almost could see how he had looked when he was still a boy, before puberty, or even before his parents' divorce upended and tilted his peaceful childhood…

When Chandler dug his big toe into her butt playfully she yelped and nearly fell off the bed.

"OW! You were awake all the time? Why, you …" He caught her hands before she could box him on his ears and drew her down, grinning.

"And a very good morning to you too … mmmh …"

"Aw … um, stop it … Chandlerrrr!" She tried to wriggle out of his grasp, scandalized when he tried to lick her neck and cleavage and even pulled down the hem of her t-shirt to dart his tongue at her armpit.

"Ew, I'm all sweaty …"

"So? Mon, we've been over this. I love it when you're sweaty. It tastes lovely. If you shower now, all I get to taste is your soap. And I'm really not all that fond of soap."

He was right, it was foolish of her, but still she couldn't help squirming under his roving hands.

"At least let me get out of my shoes –"

He held her tight just a few seconds longer and then graciously released her so she could sit up to take her shoes off. While she was still struggling with the laces on the second one he scooted over to sit behind her, wrapping his arms and legs around her and snuffling and licking at the crook of her neck, his stubble rasping over her skin. When she was done he leaned backwards until he was lying on his back, pulling her with him and turning her around until she came to lie on top of him, still in the firm grasp of his arms and legs around her. He had some considerable morning wood going and when he pressed against her and started to kiss her neck and shoulders, she felt herself relaxing against him, as if she was going soft and melting all around him. When he bunched up her t-shirt and expertly snapped open her bra, she drew everything over her head all at once and determinedly pushed down her pants too, wriggling out of them while he kicked off his boxers, the only thing he had been wearing to bed. Buck-naked they pressed together again, both sweaty now and hungry for each other as always. Chandler flipped her over without breaking their kiss and rolled on top of her in one smooth movement, keeping her pinned under him, then slowly and painstakingly went down on her, licking and sucking at all the right places (and a few she hadn't known were right for this), holding her down all the while. And just when she was ready, achingly, screamingly ready in fact, he drew back a bit, panting, his eyes glazed, and turning around started to fumble hectically for a condom on the nightstand. Monica groaned with desire and frustration, just a bit surprised at herself that she had forgotten (again) and also fiercely glad that he had remembered, although deep, deep down there was a tiny bit of regret too. True, she had finished her period only a couple of days before and it was still way too early for her to get pregnant, but there was always a chance that it could happen. His sperm might survive inside her, hold out against all odds until she got fertile … but no. It was better that way. Getting pregnant right now would put everything at risk, and if not destroy then at least seriously upset all the work and effort they had invested into their relationship. It was too soon. Much too soon.

Chandler had hardly finished rolling the condom over his penis when she reached out for him impatiently, clasping him to her and clinging to him as he lay over her and kissed her while pushing inside her deeply at the same time.

.

.

Later that day when they had all gathered together on or around the orange couch in the Perk for their usual afternoon get-together Monica felt so happy it almost scared her. As hard as it was to believe everything was alright with the world. And that also triggered a reaction that had almost become automatic for her by now, to suppress the feeling immediately so that nothing would be revealed and possibly cause something, some quirk of fate that would destroy that happiness again. She realized that it was a silly and rather superstitious reaction that only showed her disability to simply accept and enjoy it when life was good, and instead start to question its veracity immediately and even try to control it. As if admitting that she was happy would immediately make sure that it wouldn't last. Over time she had become quite secretive about her happiness, so that instead of keeping their relationship a secret she now kept secret how well it was going and how happy it made her. That way she didn't need to feel guilty when one of the others in the group was unhappy, like Ross mostly, but also Rachel. Not Phoebe, at least not right now, not as long as she still had Gary. But she was already worrying about how long this was going to last.

And yet she really couldn't help feeling happy this time. Only yesterday she had been worried sick about Ross since today was the day that Emily would get married again and she had been quite sure that some catastrophe or other was brewing that would endanger her brother's hard won mental equilibrium and peace again. It had gotten so bad that she had had to fall back on one of her well-proven diversions of getting her lose and unmounted photos organized. (Another diversion just as well tried was sorting her recipes, but she preferred to keep that for more personal crises.) That Rachel had foiled that venture probably had been just as well. And yes, there had been a problem and some very anxious moments following Emily's unexpected phone call, but somehow, with a lot of dumb luck and maybe some really inspired persuasive arguments from Rachel Ross had come through all that safe and sound, and it almost looked like there had not been that much cause for worrying after all. But you never knew and Monica for one was always ready to worry more than she needed to. Better that than the other way around.

But here she was, happy and at peace (for the time being), snuggling against her boyfriend on the big couch and listening to Ross who had still a long way to go with coming to terms with their ride-along scare on what he still called his 'Close Call Day'. Earlier he had asked Gunther if there had ever been a hold-up or at least a break-in at the café. So far nobody had had the heart to tell him that Joey had only tried to protect his sandwich and not him, least of all Joey himself. It didn't matter anyway.

"Hey Pheebs, has Gary ever been shot at for real?"

"Yes. Once. Yeah, a little. He kinda did it to himself. It's not really a good story."

For a moment Ross looked almost disappointed, then his thoughts circled back to himself again.

"I wonder how I would react under fire, you know?" Monica didn't need to wonder about that at all – she knew for a fact that he would need at least one extra pair of underwear. "And not backfire but heavy fire, like I was in a war or something."

Now she couldn't hold back anymore. "Man, I would be great in a war! I mean, I really, I think I would make a **fantastic** military leader." Hadn't she already managed to drill her line cooks and waiters into shape? It had taken her almost two years, but she had gotten there. Well almost. As much as possible anyway with that bunch of jerks. "I mean I know I would make General WAY before any of you guys."

Chandler smiled at her indulgently. "Before or after you're shot by your own troops?"

Ross hadn't even listened. "I know where Joey would be. He would be down in the foxhole protecting all of us." Oh god, how long until the bubble burst and the truth came out? And who would be the one to tell him?

"Yes, if the foxhole was lined with sandwiches." Chandler said dryly, skirting the issue.

"Yeah, hero sandwiches." Joey said proudly, and Monica winced, and made a mental note to ask Chandler what exactly had been in that famous sandwich in question. She was already sure she could improve on it.

Now Phoebe got up, smiling indulgently at all of them and as usual managing to get the last word in before sailing out serenely. "Well you all know that I'm a pacifist so I'm not interested in war in any way. But you know what? When the revolution comes, I will have to destroy you all." Already on the point of leaving she turned again to pat Joey on the head. "Not you Joey!"

All the others groaned and rolled their eyes while Joey beamed. Monica couldn't help wondering if he would let Phoebe take a bite from his precious sandwich too. Of course it would never come to that since it had meatballs in it, but it was an interesting question nonetheless.

"I take it we're all doomed then" Chandler mused and then twinkled at her. "Well, not you either, I guess, since you're in such good shape you could always outrun her."

"Aw! See how good it would be for you if you would just - -", the expression on his face stopped her just in time and she sighed. "Alright, I guess I'd just have to give you piggybacks then."


	13. Anything but a Dropper

Chandler wished he could make up his mind. Make it up and then stay with his decision, firmly and unwaveringly, for as long as it took. But it was no use. Every single time that he persuaded himself he was fine with moving in with Monica the doubts and worries would immediately attack his resolve and undermine it until it collapsed again and he would ponder the question anew. The question of whether it would be wise and sensible, even obvious to go for it – or safer to hold back, wait and think some more about it.

Because every time he had made his mind up one way or the other something, often some deceptively small thing even, would come up and make him doubt his decision again. Like when he had been fully convinced and eager to go for it only to find Monica in near hysterics because Rachel had forgotten again to straighten the shower curtain after her bath, which reminded him – very painfully – of all the occasions when he himself had forgotten to do that, and so many other things too, and how she was apt to nag him to death until he would take refuge at #19 with Joey and a couple of beers, putting up with the moldy shower curtains there, at least for the time it took for the storm to blow over. Though invariably said shower curtain, or the duck shit on the carpet, or Joey's snoring would persuade him to return to #20 where Monica would more often than not receive him with open arms, already in the process of making dinner and seemingly oblivious of everything that had so upset her earlier. And after the wonderful dinner and a lot of cuddling and making out on the couch in front of the TV he would once again resolve that living together was the obvious thing to go for. Of course it would not be easy, anything but really, but then what was? Also he really felt that he was up to the challenge. Especially if there were so many compensations and advantages that obliterated any doubts that remained.

Until the whole process started over when he could not stop himself to try out new pet names and endearments and fail miserably. Not only would names like 'honey bun' or 'sweet muffin' or 'candy cakes' invariably make her suspect that he wanted to remind her of the time when she had been overweight and unable to stop eating, but also strike her as offensive in some way or another. 'Sugarlips' had been exceptionally offensive for some reason. And anything with 'baby', be it 'babylicious' or 'baby doll' would get her to think of babies, and he really didn't want to go down that road – yet. Not for a long time.

It was at times like these that he wondered if he would ever feel confident and strong enough to take that step. To go for it. Commit himself to living with his girlfriend, in close quarters, always together, always available, never apart. Except that wasn't quite true either. Since they worked very different hours, there would always be times when one of them would be away leaving the other alone. And they were already spending every night together anyway. So how much of a difference would it really make? Did he really need a place of his own when he was spending all his free time with his girlfriend already? Didn't the fact that they were neighbors make such considerations almost superfluous? But then, if they hadn't been neighbors, wouldn't they have considered moving in already, if just as a way to save on expenses and time?

Chandler glumly realized that the question became more complicated the longer he thought about it. Here he was, on a lovely Saturday morning, close to completing their 49nth week together (dear sweet lord, how in the world could it be so long already?) comfortably installed on the orange couch in the Perk, pretending to think about what movie they should see while most of his mind was still pondering and circling around that damn question. If only there would be a sign, a clear-cut sign that would tell him if it was okay to go ahead or if it was better to give it some more time –

"Gary's gonna ask you to move in with him!" He'd been so deep in thought that Monica's urgent tone shocked him into thinking she'd really meant him and not that hunky cop with the inexplicable talent for succeeding with pet names where he himself kept failing so miserably.

"What?! Really?!" Thank god Phoebe seemed just as shocked as he was.

"He just told me at the counter. He made me promise not to tell, but I couldn't hold it in any longer!"

And oh lord, Monica seemed so enthusiastic about it. (Although enthusiastic was Monica's middle name really.) But maybe she thought that Gary's move would act as an incentive for him, put him on the right track? Could she already be aware of his grappling with the idea?

"I can't believe this!"

"Right, because it's fast. Because, it's so fast. It's fast!"

"Relax! It's Phoebe! Not you!" Oh thank god, apparently the implications of this revelation seemed to have escaped her – so far at least. He shuddered to think what it would do for her when she realized that if Phoebe and Gary really went for it, they would accomplish that important step in their relationship much sooner than they would – but it wouldn't come to that. No way.

"Oh! Good for you Pheebs, way to go!"

"No, but it **is** fast. Isn't it?" Though Monica tsked and oohed, Phoebe seemed doubtful.

"No, I like him a lot but I don't think I'm ready for this!"

Now that she said it, he couldn't help sharing her doubts. Phoebe and Gary? They were a nice couple, but hadn't Phoebe confided just lately that she was terrified of the day he would ask her about Ursula, and all of her old friends from her street-days? Just to name a few of the issues that loomed ahead. And in all honesty, he really couldn't imagine Phoebe in a steady partnership. At least not that soon.

"So, what are you gonna do?"

"I don't know. I'll just handle it—I'll ask **you** to talk to him!"

Oh god. He talk to Gary? That eternally cheerful stud who always made him feel like a total wuss in comparison? "Me?! Why me?"

"Because you are so afraid of commitment! You talk to him, make him scared like you! Make him a … man!"

In a way it almost made sense. And that Phoebe was scared of living with her boyfriend was indeed sort of encouraging. If he succeeded, it would not only make Phoebe happy but stop Monica getting all anxious about their own relationship level.

"I'll try, but I'm not sure what good it would do, y'know? Because I'm a lot less afraid of commitment than I used to be."

"That is so sweet!" Monica's smile was almost blinding. Nope, not anxious at all, but that could change within seconds. Nanoseconds. So as soon as she turned away and reached for the sugar, he nodded his assent to Phoebe.

"Still terrified, I'll take care of it. No problem."

Her obvious relief put his mind at rest too. At least for the time being.

.

But of course he didn't succeed. He'd always found it difficult to deal with those simple, straightforward guys like Gary anyway without letting his habitual goofiness take over – somehow he could never really find a natural approach to those oh so manly hearty types. Especially when they had so little sense of humor no one in their right mind could take them seriously. And here he'd been confounded from the start when Gary turned all his arguments in favor of not moving in with Phoebe around so effortlessly and made him feel more like a fool than ever for even doubting the wisdom of his intentions. Even if it all did sound a bit like Oprah, but hey, the guy was a cop, not a marriage counselor. Pity really. He even wished Gary hadn't been so definite about it being too early for him and Monica to move in together. Now he'd ended up where he'd started, and still not a single bit wiser than before. And to top it all off, he'd gotten Phoebe good and mad at him. Again. Granted, she was always mad with him, but this time it seemed quite justified. Talk about a sign! If Phoebe and Gary moved in together, could he really deduce from it that it would work for him and Monica too?

Though right now it was all too obvious that Monica had quite different priorities. He'd presumed she'd be at work by now, allowing him a couple hours' leisure in which he could think some more about the question of the month in the peace and quiet of his room or maybe on the Barcalounger in front of the TV, but instead he'd found her at #19 engaged in the enormously important, indeed world-changing task of throwing a ball around with Joey and Ross. Just throwing and catching across the living-room. Toss. Catch. Chuck. Grab. Toss again, rolling her eyes at Ross when he whined about her throwing it too hard (again). Truly there was no comprehending this woman. Okay, apparently she hadn't started this game, but without her Joey and Ross would surely have succumbed to the temptations of food, TV, napping or even seeing a movie after two hours max, and not continued for all of –

"Four hours? You guys have been doing this for four hours?!"

Joey smirked. "That's right baby!"

And it was already way past his usual naptime too, so there must be some attraction to the game he hadn't been able to see yet. Maybe if he gave it a try?

"All right, let me in."

"No-no! Don't do it! Don't!" Monica all but threw herself in front of him. The hell? "What?"

"He's a dropper!" Oh god, no, not that again … but of course Joey had to chip in. Showing his true loyalties as always.

"Oh yeah, that's right!"

"I'm not a dropper!"

"It's really a, uh, three person game, you know?" Et tu, Ross?

"It's throwing and catching!" And throwing and catching and throwing and catching and if all that throwing and catching had any remotely entertaining value he seriously doubted it would reveal itself to him, but now that they didn't want him in, he was all the more determined to participate in that mind-numbing pastime. Maybe it would even help him with his problem or at least stop him from having to think about it …

And Ross of course had to go out and throw him the ball in an infuriatingly girly fashion to show him up, though how that would get him to drop the thing was beyond him. He'd show them. Catching and throwing? "Oh! Oh! That's so hard -" Why not up the game a bit and put on a little show, if only to demonstrate to them that he was anything but a dropper – and it would have worked for sure if the damn thing hadn't been that slippery (from all their accumulated four hours' worth of sweat, no doubt) he only just succeeded to retain it by a lot of fumbling and clutching. Damn. Failed again, and chastened he handed the ball to Monica, cringing at her 'I told you so' expression. Practice, that was the thing, he needed more practice, that was all there was to it. Okay, back to watching. And wrecking his mind again about the Moving-In Question. Rachel carrying her new pet around and showing off her scratches from what surely was the minion of the Anti-Christ (what else could it be, if it could still make Monica sneeze even though there was not a single hair on its body?) was no help either. Even Gary and Phoebe bursting in to announce their happy news couldn't even pause the game for long, let alone stop it up altogether. He was beginning to think that nothing could.

But at least by the sixth hour the others finally caved and allowed him in, and after the seventh hour they even let him throw it to Ross too. By the tenth hour Monica finally conceded the need for something to eat and they shifted the game to #20 where they managed to rope in Rachel too (and devour the defrosted chicken together with the pizza) when it turned out she had fobbed off her hissing chicken skin monster to Gunther.

And so onward with the throwing and the catching. And throwing. And catching. And throwing. And catching.

Throwing.

Catching.

Throwing.

Catching …

By the fourteenth hour he had become convinced that it was all just a fiendish plot to keep him and Monica from having sex. Or doing anything together - like sleeping most of all - except throwing that cursed ball around. He wasn't sure where that plot had originated from, but there could simply be no other explanation.

Throwing.

Catching.

Throwing.

Catching …

Fifteen hours. Gary. It had to be Gary. Or maybe Gunther who surely had been seduced to the Dark Side by the Minion of the Anti-Christ by now.

Throwing.

Catching.

Throwing.

Catching …

When the seventeenth hour had come, just about the only one left standing was Monica and even she, wonders upon wonders, was beginning to show the strain. Rachel on the easy chair looked like she'd been running on autopilot for the last two hours and Ross and Joey were lolling on the couch with maybe one and a half eye open between them. When he heard Ross beginning to snore he threw the ball at him a little harder than necessary just out of spite. Ross woke with a splutter, but still failed to let the ball drop. Damn.

"Oh, I was having the best dream!"

"What?" Rachel seemed almost catatonic.

"I dreamed I was drowning and - not throwing this ball!"

And then Phoebe entered. Or maybe it was the Angel of Salvation in Phoebe's guise. Chandler couldn't be sure. But then he'd stopped being sure about anything about an hour back already.

"Oh good, you're all up." Was it his fatigue or did angels always sound that sad?

"Phoebe! It's 6 o'clock in the morning! Why aren't you at Gary's?"

"Oh yeah, that's over."

What?! That finally got him to rouse himself. Well, a little.

"Come on! Gary's such a great guy! Whatever the problem is, you can work it out!" What had the happy hunk done now, called her pumpkin too?

"He shot a bird!"

Good sweet Moses. "Oh that is over!" Happy hunk? Trigger-happy more like it.

"That's terrible! I'm sorry!" "Phoebe, are you okay?"

"Yeah. Yeah, I'll be alright." Chandler thought she would be too, judging from her composed if rather sad demeanor, though he didn't really feel adequate to judging it in his near comatose condition.

And then it happened. The miracle. It actually happened.

Phoebe caught the ball and put it on the table, right in front of him. He wasn't dreaming it, it was really happening.

It was over. The game was over and he could go to sleep. Not even Monica could do anything about it, for a wonder, for all her mad rousing and cheering. Except now instead of going to sleep everybody wanted breakfast, especially after Monica had managed to take herself out of the game – and the apartment – so suddenly, just as if the breaking of the Curse of the Ball had somehow induced fresh energy into everybody. Everybody except him. All of a sudden he found that he was too tired to even think about eating or even stand up straight anymore, as if Monica's abrupt departure had taken the last shreds of his will to remain awake out the door with her. The last thing he knew was that he was heading for the bathroom with the vague idea of throwing some cold water on his face, but then the couch got in the way somehow and once he had fallen on it there was simply no way he could see himself getting up again anytime soon. Make that ever again. Especially after he had closed his eyes. Mmmh, sweet peaceful oblivion ...

"Hey guys! Perk's not opening for another ten minutes, but I got Bagels!" Funny, that did sound like Monica, but it surely must be a hallucination. For all he knew Monica must be halfway to the Canadian border by now. Or the moon. Ugh, did everyone have to cheer that loud? And why did it have to be so bright already, and smell so deliciously of fresh bread too, right under his nose – wait what? After struggling with his leaden eyelids for what seemed like an eternity he finally managed to open one eye about halfway and blink up at Monica who was sitting beside him on the couch and holding a bag of fresh Bagels under his nose, with an almost maternal smile on her face.

"Chandler honey! Wakey-wakey!"

"Oooomm… 'lemme sleeeep …"

"Come on!" Now Ross loomed over her shoulder, quite bushytailed again as if he hadn't just gotten out of a waking coma. "Monica's out of coffee, so we're going to the Perk!"

"Argmumff…"

"Oh my." That was Rachel, from somewhere behind the couch at his shoulder. "I think it took too much out of him."

"Oh leave him here! You'll never get him up."

"I sure could use a nap myself …"

"No! Let's get him up, all together now!"

"Naw, it's no use, he'll just do his dead man routine." From the sound of it Ross was already heading to the door. Monica almost hissed in frustration. Then he suddenly felt her bending over him, her breasts pressing against his chest and her lips brushing his cheeks as she brought her mouth close to his ear.

"Want to join me in the shower…?!"

His eyes flew open as if someone had suddenly snapped the blinds open and when he managed to raise himself on one elbow, Monica sat back with a triumphant grin.

"Ta-da!"

.

It was only half an hour later when they finally wound back up at #20, but it seemed like half an eternity to him. He still couldn't believe the others had remained behind at the Perk, and after that stupid discussion about his alleged (and completely fictitious and unsubstantial) dropper fame too. How they could still be awake and coherent now was beyond him. Especially Joey, though he would bet anything that his roommate was taking his long delayed nap on the couch by now. It wouldn't be the first time either. The five flights of stairs, the fresh air and the coffee had helped, but of course Monica's incentive had been the determining factor. She would be tired now too, so the chances for a nice long lie-in afterwards were good. So maybe the shower first, but only if she insisted on it, and then it would probably work quite nicely for some good, steamy foreplay. And then the bed which they would fall into after, still hot and soft from the shower, butt naked and giggling, wrapping themselves around each other, and he would feel her open up to him, invite him in as he sank into her, her wet slippery softness enveloping him –

That's when it finally hit him. Here he had been asking for a sign whether he should move in with Monica and he had just been given one without realizing it. Gary had blown it, and after all that cheerful optimism that it was bound to work, and with such a rookie mistake too. Seriously? Shooting a bird with Phoebe present? Could he really have been so ignorant about Phoebe and her all-encompassing love for everything and anything from smelly cats to dying Christmas trees? Phoebe who saved earth worms from the sidewalk and collected flies in a glass to save them from death at shut windows?

And what exactly did that mean for him? If that break-up wasn't a wake-up call, what was? At the very least it was a clear warning to proceed even more carefully than before, delay the next baby step. Today was Sunday, they had completed their 49nth week together. More than eleven months. Why risk all that so close to finish line of their one year anniversary? Why all the rush all of a sudden?

"Chandler! What's up, sweetie? Are you going to –um, drop asleep on me?"

Chandler stared at her and then let a wide smile spread on his face.

"Me? Drop asleep? Uh-uh, not me. In fact –", and bending over he hauled her up in his arms and over his shoulder to carry her to the bedroom while she laughed and kicked. "I may be a dropper, but I'm not dropping asleep now." He kicked the door shut behind them and managed to heft her across to the bed before his knees – and arms - gave out. "And I promise I won't drop you. Ever." He paused at the edge of the bed, still holding her up. "Unless you want me to."

Monica had her arms around his neck now, gazing up at him with a sleepy smile and leaning in for a kiss.

"Why don't you drop both of us now?"

And so he did.


	14. Road Trip Baby

Finally they were on the home stretch. Almost there. Only one more day and their 51st week would be completed, and the last, final week would begin. The week that would complete their first year together. And they were getting there, slowly but surely, hour by hour, day by day, baby step by baby step, and nothing and no one could stop them.

Not even Richard. Especially not Richard. And how could he? He wasn't even in the game! If Chandler hadn't griped about him getting mentioned all of a sudden yesterday at their nice quiet Friday after work get-together at the Perk, Monica would have felt as if nothing could ever mar her happiness about her achievement. Okay, their achievement. (But still mostly hers).

It did leave a bad aftertaste though. And it was so unfair – after all it had been Rachel who had mentioned him and not her, and after she had tried her damnedest if not to totally forget about him then at least not to mention him ever all through the whole long year. And now look what happened – one fleeting mention was enough to make Chandler go in that ridiculous sulking act. Again. Fortunately Rachel's childish tantrum about her inflamed eye had gotten them around that looming crisis and by the time everyone was done with teasing her about her phobia of anything getting to her eye the danger seemed to be averted.

For now.

Hmm. Maybe Chandler was getting the jitters too, so close to their goal? That was something to think about. She was sure that he too didn't want anything to jeopardize their arriving at that special anniversary with their relationship still intact. Quite sure. Although his anxiety about finding a suitable present to give her on their anniversary could also have a part in it. Not as big as it had for her, but still. She hadn't been able to think of anything yet and it was driving her crazy already. What could she give him that he would really like and which also fit the exceptionality of this occasion, and yet didn't make him feel like she was pushing or pressuring him in any way? Everything that occurred to her didn't quite seem to fit the bill: A new briefcase? He'd gotten one already for his birthday from the other four together. A new watch? Since they were still on London time this would probably send the wrong signal. A tie? She had given him so many of those already. Argh! Shower gel? Too ordinary. Bath salt? He never took baths. A record or CD? A toy for his office? A picture frame for his desk in the office? That could work, but it felt a bit too soon for her, a tad presumptuous. She put it on the list anyway.

On the upside, she did manage to get an appointment for today for Rachel to have her eye looked at, and with Dr. Miller too – she'd been lucky there that he just happened to be on call this weekend. She liked him best of all the doctors at the eye clinic, mostly because he didn't remind her of Richard or Timothy at all. He'd also been quite understanding about Rachel's silly anxieties, even more so than her in fact. It made her all the more determined to get her there regardless of anything her roommate would try to get out of it. So far she had pleaded headaches, colds, stomachaches, sudden emergencies at work, forgotten lunch dates with her mother or her father, and countless other excuses, everyone more ludicrous than the last. Just now at breakfast she had played the silently suffering martyr and returned to her room quite abruptly when no one took any notice. Everyone else was still here though, even Phoebe if probably only physically so while her thoughts were straying to distant planes most of the time (nothing new there really), and Joey who had just left to take a phone call from his crazy agent. But if the worst came to the worst she could count on them for some support in carrying Rachel bodily to the doctor's office if necessary. Though who knew what she would try to pull until then. Monica liked to think that she was prepared for pretty much everything though. Naturally.

It was funny though that the one thing she hadn't tried to pull was a sudden onset of period pains. But then Rachel knew only too well that they always went on their periods together and her last one had been done for almost two weeks now. In fact, she and Chandler had gone off condoms again yesterday – always a special occasion though it really shouldn't make any difference. And yet it did, and he seemed to feel the same way about it. Of course the sex was just as great with or without, but there always seemed to be a subtle difference in the way they went about it. Without condoms they seemed more relaxed about the whole thing and there was more – spontaneity maybe. More flow, although Chandler often successfully managed to integrate the process of putting on the condom into the foreplay, much better than all the other men before him too. But then he'd had a lot of practice now …

Practice. Of course, that was it. She had never been long enough with a man for him to get that kind of practice with her. And all of a sudden Monica realized something else. She had actually never been with a man long enough to even risk having sex without a condom, even when she'd been close enough to the end of her cycle. Granted, she still put in her diaphragm every time, but with all her other partners she'd invariably insisted on condoms too. Even with Richard … oh good grief, why did she have to think about Richard again? She'd sworn to herself to forget about him completely and here he was, intruding into her thoughts all over again. Damn it. Monica closed her eyes in her effort to push the thought out of her mind, trying to think of something else instead. The sex last night, yes that would do nicely – the first time without condoms after two and a half weeks, and they had enjoyed it so much, drawing it out endlessly and without hurry … There was another thing that was different about the sex without condoms. The condom always seemed to mark the beginning of the end, once Chandler put it on, he had to get into her without too much delay or risk losing his erection and the condom with it, and then get on with things and finish before long too. No matter what they did and how they did it, there was always the condom to consider. If there was no need for a condom they could pretty much fool around as long as they wanted, sometimes without any joining at all or several times in one session. Yesterday they had managed to extend their love play for hours, rolling from one end of the bed to the other and back, and even fallen asleep once during –

"Monica!"

When her eyes snapped open she found herself staring at Ross who frowned at her while Phoebe smirked in a half-absent way and Chandler looked at her quizzically over the edge of his muesli bowl.

"What? Sorry, I didn't hear you."

"I SAID could you pass the jam please? Twice!" Then his face changed. "Oh no. You've been thinking about … um-uh, sex again, haven't you?"

"Um-uh-sex?!" Chandler raised his brows. "Is that a thing?" Ross scowled.

Monica managed to keep her cool, although she felt her cheeks warming. "And what if I have?" She met his stare defiantly. "Are you going to tell Mom about it?"

Ross grimaced. "No … and even if I did that, I'd have to explain first why you're doing it with Chandler in the first place, wouldn't I?"

Monica breathed in sharply. "Ross …! You wouldn't!" When he smirked at her she narrowed her eyes at him. "Unless you want to have your breakfast at your own place from now on?" When he lowered his eyes, muttering, she grinned triumphantly.

"You haven't told your parents about us yet?" Chandler asked oh so casually.

She bit her lip. "Uh – um, no ... Have you told yours?"

He smiled lovingly at her before returning to his muesli. "Good point."

"You haven't told your parents yet that you have a girlfriend?! You've been with my sister for what, half a year –"

"One year!" It was almost a perfect chorus that made them grin at each other with delight and then high-five while Ross stared and Phoebe composedly sipped her tea.

"Minus one week" Monica added.

"But –"

Chandler sighed. "One of them's in Japan right now – or New Zealand, I'm not sure, and it could be the North Pole for all I care. And the other's on a book tour, maybe around the South Pole even. I think the penguins are big fans."

"Oh that's so sweet! Penguins are lovely creatures." Phoebe smiled dreamily. "Oh, I think I had a dream about penguins … or was that ice? Iceland?"

"That's near the North Pole, Phoebe."

"So?"

"There are no penguins – alright! Fine. Have it your way." Still rolling his eyes Ross got up to put his plate in the sink.

"Thank you!" While Phoebe beamed vapidly at him Monica caught Chandler's eyes and they smiled at each other once more. It made her want to sing. He remembered. He was just as antsy as she was. How could she have ever doubted that?

Now if only she could think of a suitable gift. Oh god. A book? A movie? Not special enough. Theatre tickets? That would probably remind him of Kathy. And make Joey jealous.

Now Ross headed for the door. "All right, I gotta go. I'm taking Ben to the park."

That put a damper on her mood again. She had totally forgotten to ask about her nephew again. That she hadn't seen in months – oh, it didn't bear thinking.

"Ohh, give him a kiss for me!" Phoebe fluttered her hand after Ross and while they all joined into the chorus of byes Monica suddenly wondered if the breakup with Gary had thrown Phoebe out of whack somehow. More so than usual that was. Her suspicion seemed confirmed when Phoebe sat up straight to positively glare after Ross as soon as he had closed the door behind him.

"I am so sorry you got caught in the middle of that. I didn't mean to be so out there. I am furious with him!"

"Wow, umm … calm down?" Chandler tried cautiously.

"I'm trying, but **man** that guy can push my buttons!"

What was this now? "Why are so mad at him?"

"Look, I don't wanna talk about it. Okay?"

"Well, it just seems that you're …" She wanted to say 'experiencing mood swings or something', but Phoebe almost jumped at her before she could finish the sentence. "You wanna be on my list too? Keep talking!" And then, just like that, she calmed down again. "Has anyone seen my list by the way?"

Definitely mood swings. What could have gotten into her? Had Gary gotten her pregnant by any chance?

"Uh, no Pheebs." Chandler went out of his way to sound as neutral as an observer from Switzerland. "What's it look like?"

"Uh, it's a piece of paper and it says, "Ross" on it …" Phoebe replied vaguely. Fortunately Joey chose just this moment to come in, before Phoebe's worries about her list could escalate again. He seemed rather down, but long experience had taught Monica to wait for the punchline.

"Hey. I just got off the phone with Estelle and guess what." He paused dramatically, and yeah, so what else was new? "I GOT THE LEAD IN A MOVIE!"

While they all couldn't believe their ears, Chandler seemed the most excited and no wonder. Just the day before yesterday he had been worried about Joey being unable to pay his part of the rent – again.

"You got the lead in a movie? That's amazing! What's the movie about?!"

"It's called Shutter Speed, it's really cool! Yeah, umm, I meet this girl in the subway and we fall in love in like a day, right? And **then** , she disappears… But I find out where she lives and when I get there this like old lady answers the door and I say, "Where's Betsy?" Right? And she says, "Betsy's been dead for _**ten yeeaars**_ ...!"

It sounded awfully like a rip-off of "The Sixth Sense" to her, but if it got Joey his big break who cared? Not she.

"Ohh-oh, chilling!" Leave it to Phoebe to provide the most heartfelt unthinking support. Joey seemed almost giddy with excitement.

"And the best part is, we're filming in the desert outside Vegas!" Now he turned to Chandler with a big grin. "And you know what that means buddy!"

"Yeah, I know that means buddy!" Huh? What could that me-

"Road trip! Yeah, we can rent a car! I just have to be there by Tuesday!" And with that Joey and Chandler high-fived. Clearly for them a long cherished dream had finally come true. For a long moment Monica didn't know if she should be happy for them or concerned. A road trip that short before their anniversary? But surely once they arrived Chandler would fly back as soon as he could, and the anniversary was still a week away anyway. If it meant so much to them … And she had taken an oath to herself never to try and get between those two, whatever the costs.

"Oh wait, my grandmother's dead." Another gem for the grand collection of Phoebe's non sequiturs. She should really start to write them down one day.

"Well, uh, we can talk about that too, Pheebs …" Chandler too seemed to prefer handling Phoebe as if she was a ticking bomb.

"No! No, her cab! She probably won't be using it, you can drive it to Las Vegas."

"All right! Thanks Pheebs!" Leave it to Joey to enthuse about that rickety old rust bucket. He would probably make Chandler drive it most of the time too.

"Whoa-whoa-whoa, what are we going to do about my job?"

"Oh umm, not go?"

Apparently that was the right answer. "All right, great, road trip baby!" Just as the sudden pang at his leaving her for god knew how long made itself felt, he finally turned to her, going from excited to slightly worried once he'd taken in her carefully neutral expression. "This okay with you?"

Deep inside she couldn't help but feel relieved that he had thought to ask. Though of course she could never show it.

"Chandler! You don't have to ask for my permission!" When he continued to look at her searchingly, she nodded, lowering her voice. "You can go."

"Thank you." Just as quietly and with a smile that told her he understood. She wished they could be alone right then, but she had to leave now if she really wanted to haul Rachel to the eye doctor in time. And yes, just as she'd foreseen Rachel made a last desperate attempt at delaying their departure by knocking cereal all over her nice clean kitchen floor that she had scrubbed just this morning. Admittedly quite a genius move that made her glad she had prepared herself for something exactly like this. Hah!

"If you thought this mess is going to bother me, you are wrong! All right, let's go Blinky!" Triumphantly she proceeded to push Rachel through the door while trying her best to ignore the crunching cereal under her feet. She had actually made it to the step in the hallway when her barriers broke down, and she had to stick her head back through the door.

"CHANDLERRR!" It wasn't so much an admonishment as a cry for help and what a relief it was to see him rise to the occasion so quickly. Of course she would need to go over the floor again afterwards, but for now it was enough to know that he would deal with the worst of it. She felt truly blessed then. Again.

.

Later, over coffees in the Perk, the feeling of quiet joy still persisted. She had gotten Rachel through the appointment, rescued the eye drops from her before Rachel could secretly drop them in a trash can and even won herself a lollipop from Dr. Miller once again. And as if her cup wasn't already running over, it had turned out that Chandler had managed to remove the mess on her kitchen floor quite nicely. Of course he had forgotten to clean the mop, but she was quite prepared to overlook that. This time.

"You know, I-I gotta tell ya, those eye drops are a miracle. My eye is a 100% better!"

Ha, nice try, Rachel. "They're still in my coat!"

As her roommate sulked, Chandler came in and they got a chance to smile at each other before Joey pounced on him. "Hey! You ready to go?" Apparently Joey was itching to start on their road trip already, even to the extent of foregoing his usual nap at this hour. Chandler held out some sweater vests over his arm. "Yeah, listen, how cold is it going to be there? Do I need a coat or will all these sweater vests be enough? What?"

She couldn't take her eyes off him. Her boyfriend of almost one year. A year ago today she'd still been alone, stressed and worried all the time, with no one to help her in emergencies, always on her own. Now she had a boyfriend, and such a wonderful guy too. He looked so cute with all his sweater vests that she couldn't help smiling at him until her cheeks ached.

"I love you", she told him unhesitatingly when he looked puzzled at her expression. Nothing else mattered. They were going to be fine. They were going to make it to their anniversary and beyond, she was quite sure of it now.

When Chandler left first she followed him to say goodbye at the car, snatching at an undisturbed moment before the others joined them. He put his vests in his duffel on the passenger seat and then wrapped his arms around her.

"I'll call you tonight" he promised, suddenly looking worried. "Are you going to be okay?"

"Of course I am!" She pressed against him. "Just make sure you're back before – you know."

He grinned and tightened his grip. "Of course I will. Oh, should I place a bet for you too? What's your lucky number?"

She felt herself melt. "You pick one. And don't place it for me, do it for us!"

Unfortunately Joey came rushing out of the Perk then and jumped into the driver's seat without further ado. Chandler sighed and let her go to climb in beside him, barely able to shut the door before Joey stepped on the gas and pulled out. Rachel joined her on her sidewalk to wave their goodbyes as they went around the corner, and it was only then that she realized that she and Chandler had never been apart for more than a day in all that time (almost one year!) and now she would have to do without him for at least three days. And nights. Especially nights.

Maybe she should get a plane ticket and surprise him there? It was something to think about.

.

They were still at the coffeehouse two hours later, bickering over Phoebe's inexplicable aversion to Ross and Monica was just trying to steel herself for the return to her apartment and the prospect of spending the evening – and the night – without Chandler, when he came back, just like that. A bit worse for wear and rather grim-faced, but Chandler, her boyfriend of almost a year, back already. Minus his luggage, except for a plastic bag - a rather dirty one too.

"Chandler! What are you doing here?"

"Joey kicked me out of the car on the George Washington bridge!" he wailed.

"What? Why?!" they all exclaimed as Monica got up hurriedly to hug him. Yup, it was really him, no mere apparition – he was too sweaty for that.

"I don't know! He went crazy! You know, we were playing that game where you-you ask a question and you answer it really fast."

Oh god that stupid thing. Monica hated to admit it, but the very thought of voicing what was in her head before she had a chance to think about it scared the bejesus out of her. How could anyone not see how dangerous this could be?

"That game should not be played without my supervision." Phoebe declared earnestly.

"Well, I don't know what made him so mad, y'know? All I said was that uh, I didn't think this wasn't gonna be his big break, that this movie wasn't going to do anything for him, and that uh, y'know it didn't sound like a real movie –" Now he sighed, his shoulders slumping. "Okay, he should've pushed me **off** of the bridge."

While the others exclaimed over this and Phoebe grabbed the teddy bear with one leg (and the big peanut butter stain on the other) Monica couldn't get her hands off Chandler, her mind already whirling with new plans for the night and the next week. With Joey in Las Vegas they had his apartment to themselves for one, and since Chandler had taken half the next week off already and she didn't need to work on Monday, they could spend all the day together there. And all because of this stupid fight. It just went to show there was no cloud without silver lining.

But she still had to find a gift. Hmm. Something to wear? A new bathrobe? A pillow or a blanket? Candles? A sex toy? (were there sex toys for men? That he would want to try?) She could bake or cook something special for him, but she did that all the time already (and much too often too since he seemed to be putting on weight). A poem? That could remind him of a vow and she wasn't good at poetry anyway. Knicks tickets? That wasn't something they could both enjoy. A special kind of condom? Porn?

.

When Joey called the next day from somewhere in Ohio she had already made three lists of potential gifts (and crossed out again almost everything on them). After the call she added new sweater vests to the current list. And also porn.

.

When Joey called from Las Vegas on Monday she was absurdly touched. He had remembered her, and so soon after his arrival on the set too when he should have so many other things on his mind. If only he and Chandler could make up, but nothing he had tried so far had seemed to work. If only there was something she could do to get them to talk – wait a minute. There it was. The perfect gift. Why hadn't she thought of that sooner? A weekend in Las Vegas, the perfect place to celebrate their anniversary! They could fly out on Friday evening and return on Monday after two whole days of fun and love. They could visit Joey on the movie set, maybe try their luck at the casinos to win their expenses for the hotel and the flights back! Everything was possible in Vegas. At the very least it would be a perfect finale for a wonderful year.

She really couldn't wait.


	15. Two Tickets to Vegas

When Monica finally came for him, Chandler had almost convinced himself that he would never sleep again. Not a single wink all through the rest of his pathetic life, forever doomed to spend all his nights wide awake, staring at the ceiling of his bedroom or at the TV as he was doing now. There was a horrible taste in his mouth, his eyes were itchy and he was getting cold. And stiff in all the wrong places too, and all just from sitting in his Barcalounger in front of the TV for a couple of hours. Times were when he had spent a whole night that way and never felt a thing. Where had all the times gone?

Just when he tried to force himself to yawn, hoping to trigger the elusive sleepiness that way, Monica appeared in front of his Barcalounger as if out of thin air. Great, staring wide awake and yet so numb he hadn't noticed her as she came out of his room. Way to go.

"Chandler! It's 2 o'clock in the morning! What are you doing?"

"Um … catching up on my TV sleep?" When she gave him a reproachful look he sighed. "Sorry. I just couldn't sleep, and I didn't want to wake you with all my tossing and turning …"

"Oh." She came closer and frowned at the TV screen. "And watching – what's that? Magnum P.I.?! Seriously?"

"The crap on the other channels is even worse."

"But Magnum? I thought you hated that show! You keep saying Tom Selleck reminds you of Richard-"

He threw up his hands, wincing at her look. "Yeah, I thought maybe he'd turn me off TV altogether, so getting back to bed would be more appealing."

"And? Did he?"

Chandler bleakly stared at the TV screen, refusing to meet her eyes. "Not yet."

Monica shook her head. "Oh my god, are you still into punishing yourself for not supporting Joey?! That is sooo –"

Chandler set his jaw. "He needed me to believe in him and I didn't."

"Oh sweetie." Monica sat on his lap and put her arms around his neck. Somewhere in the back of his mind he noticed that she was naked under her thin nightie, but stubbornly refused to acknowledge the hint while the main part of his brain was still caught up with groveling in the dirt and begging for forgiveness from a stern reproachful Joey who kept glaring at him mercilessly and ignoring his woeful pleas. Much like the time he had to live in the box for half a day, except that this was worse. He wished there was a box he could crawl into now.

"You didn't believe in the movie, but that doesn't mean you don't believe in him! And you are supporting him. You worry about him all the time, you still care for him even though he kicked you out, you're still his friend –"

"Not much of a friend."

"Of course you are! Chandler, nobody cares as much as you do. If Joey had kicked me out of the car, I would never talk to him again!"

He frowned at her. "Really?"

"Yes!"

"Really?!"

"Yes – well …"

"There you go."

Monica sighed. "But at least you don't need to worry about him. I talked to him yesterday and he's fine!"

"I know."

"How do you know? You haven't talked to him!"

"He took the room I reserved for us at Caesar's and he's still in it." Chandler sighed. "I know that because I called him there."

"So? Doesn't that mean he still thinks of you as his friend if he lets you pay for his room?"

"It doesn't work that way. And why won't he talk to me?"

"I don't know. Maybe you shouldn't push him so hard."

"Then he'll think I no longer care!"

"Oh sweetie. No one could think that." Monica wiggled a little closer and then drew his head down to her breast. "I'll tell you what I think. I think you should stop worrying and come back to bed. Right now."

He tightened his arms around her. "Now? But that's so not how I planned it – oh, look, Magnum's just taking that Hawaii shirt off – eww. You're right. Nobody deserves this. Ugh, look at all that hair! Did Richard have that much – ouch!"

She switched the TV off after hitting him over the head with the remote. "Stop mentioning Richard! Don't you realize I'm totally over him? I would have totally forgotten about him by now if you didn't mention him all the time!"

As if anyone could ever forget the big tree. And now Monica raising herself up enough to straddle him and press closer, thus effectively distracting him from thinking about her former lover was rather suspicious in itself, except he suddenly felt too tired to persist in his gloomy paranoia. And the way she wriggled and snuggled on his lap, cooing and giggling when his hands roamed over back and buttocks, did indeed suggest a whole range of ways to get over his insomnia.

"And who knows, maybe tomorrow it'll be different, and you'll get a chance to talk to him!"

"To Richard? Ouch – yeah, okay, maybe you're right."

"Of course I'm right! You'll see!" She straddled him again, cradling his head in her hands.

"Come on, forget about Joey for now. It's only two days to our anniversary!"

"I know, but I still can't sleep."

She gave him a conspiratorial smile. "Oh, you'll sleep, never fear!"

"Oh yeah?" Now his hands had wandered under her nightie and he started to gently stroke and knead her hips and buttocks while slowly feeling his way towards her vulva with the tips of his fingers. She squirmed and rubbed against him until her nightie had rucked up to the small of her back and then he felt her hand searching under his robe and boxers for and closing around his erection he hadn't realized he had gotten until then. It made him start and he would have exclaimed with surprise too except she pressed her mouth on his before he could do so. Then all he could do was keeping up his part by kissing and sucking her breasts and rubbing her buttocks while she pressed the tip of his penis against her clit and teased herself with it, letting it slide into her just a little and then pulling it out again, all the while squeezing and massaging it with her fingers. It drove him crazy with lust. When at some point he felt the familiar thought forming in the back of his head – had she done this with Richard too? – he stepped on it almost violently, pushing it back before it could fully develop. Now was so not the time. Later, when it would turn out that even this would not make him sleep.

.

Except of course it did. Naturally, because Monica was always right, especially with things like this. Just like she had been right about his getting a chance to talk to Joey, and right on the following day too. Early in the morning to be exact, just after he'd entered #20 for breakfast and found Phoebe there talking to Joey on the phone.

"Is that Joey?! Let me talk to him!"

But of course Joey still wouldn't talk to him. He should have known. If there was one thing Joey was great at it was holding a grudge. Apologizing over the phone was probably not going to cut it. If Joey couldn't see his face while he apologized he would never believe him anyway.

"You know what? I have been trying to apologize to him all week! If he's not gonna let me do it on the phone, I'm gonna go down there and do it in person."

And then it happened. The universe shifted, the space time continuum drew in on itself, twisting and rearranging itself to a parallel life where Joey changed his mind. Just like that, and he hadn't even groveled on the floor yet. When Phoebe handed him the phone he felt like in a dream.

"Hey!"

"Don't come out here!" It was very strange, but Joey didn't sound mad. More like really, really anxious.

"No-no-no-no, I've supported you one hundred percent and I want to prove that to you in person!"

"I got that! I forgive you! Don't come out here!"

What the hell? Could it really be so easy?

"Forgive me? You haven't been taking my calls in a week!"

"Well, I'm totally over it Chandler. Friends forever! Don't come out here!"

Was this a dream? How could Joey get over his grudge so suddenly? And why was someone asking him to do a picture with them?

"Uh, what was that?"

"Uh, _Entertainment Tonight_. Yeah, okay so, good talking to ya and don't come out here. All right!"

And that was that. Almost one week of worrying and beating himself up over his horrible, utterly inexcusable error and all was forgiven and forgotten just like that. It was … strange. No scratch that. It was wrong.

"Hey, Chandler, what's going on? What did he say?"

"I don't get it." He looked at Phoebe helplessly. "Why would he forgive me just like that?"

She shrugged dismissively. "He probably has other problems now. He said his stunt double was getting too familiar. Maybe he's doing his job too!"

Chandler sighed. "I should be happy he's forgiven me, but I'm not. Something's not right about this. Why doesn't he want us to come?"

Phoebe pondered this and then brightened. "Oh, maybe it's too dangerous! Maybe he's working undercover and doesn't want us to reveal him to the enemy!"

"Pheebs, he's an actor, not a secret agent."

She pouted, unwilling to let go of her fantasy so soon. "So? He could be both!"

"Joey? Are we talking about Joey?"

"Or that stunt double could be a secret agent and Joey works for him!"

Chandler had to admit that it was as good a theory as any.

.

It was just as well that he'd taken Friday and Monday off, since he just wasn't able to focus on his work, but kept thinking about his conversation with Joey all through the day, on the subway, at work, on his lunch break and on the way home after he'd left early. It just didn't make sense for Joey to act that way. Even if it was Joey. But at length he decided to let it go, at least until after the anniversary. If he kept worrying and fretting it would only spoil their anniversary that Monica had been looking forward to so much. Almost as much as he had. Looking forward to, but also dreading it a little. If there was one good thing about the whole upset with Joey it was that he hadn't had time to indulge in his usual anxieties and fears of not being able to fulfill Monica's expectations. If something went wrong it would be his fault of course – Monica would never do anything to risk spoiling their anniversary, he was sure of that. Everything she had planned would work out perfectly, unless he managed to screw it up. And screw it up he would, he was fairly sure of that, if only by giving her a present that she didn't like or that didn't suit the occasion. Or saying the wrong thing at the wrong time. Or not saying anything when he was supposed to say something. There were so many potential pitfalls he was kept breaking in a cold sweat even thinking about them. He almost wished that Joey was still mad at him.

But when he entered #20 and found Monica there with Phoebe, everything seemed fine. Monica was wearing that hot red dress that always had him staring at her breasts like an idiot and she was positively vibrating with happiness and excitement.

"It's almost our anniversary!" She all but jumped into his arms, hugging him tight and kissing him. If it hadn't been so close to their anniversary he would have suspected that something else was making her nervous, but of course it had to be that she was all pumped up for the big event. Very understandably too. He had trouble believing that it had been one year already – one whole year! – all by himself.

"I know! Can you believe it? One year ago today I was just your annoying friend Chandler."

"Awww!" Until she piped up they had almost forgotten about Phoebe who was watching them benignly. "Now you're just **my** annoying friend Chandler."

"Huh." Well, at least it was still 'friend'. From Phoebe whose preferred position always seemed to be the one where she could challenge and antagonize him that was a lot already.

"I got you a present!" Now Monica was almost skipping with joy.

"Oh, but it's not 'til tomorrow!" he pointed out. For a moment he almost panicked – had he been supposed to bring his present too?

"I know, but you have to open it today!"

It was a slim cardboard box, neatly wrapped and sealed with tape and ribbon, so nicely in fact that he just had to try and open it as slowly and carefully as the nice wrapping seemed to call for, and trying hard not to show how much he enjoyed the way Monica was almost dancing in place with impatience while he fumbled at the edges and corners of the box. In fact it took less then ten seconds until her nerve snapped and she snatched the box from him, tearing it open almost brutally.

"Okay! There you go! Its two tickets to Vegas!"

"Wow!" That was so not what he had expected from her.

"For this weekend! Oh gosh, it would be perfect, we get to see Joey plus we get to start our anniversary celebration on the plane." Now she was grinning so hard it almost hurt looking at her. "We can call it our _plane-aversary_!"

Um. Great. "Do we have to?"

"No." It sounded rather reluctant though. Chandler realized that she had probably spent hours planning their trip.

"Okay this is great, but Joey said he didn't want any of us out there."

Monica just waved his concerns aside. "Oh, he just doesn't want us to go through any trouble. Think of how excited he'll be when we go out and surprise him!" Another big delighted grin. "Plus we get to have our own, " _Ani-Vegas-sary_ "! A " _Nevadaversary_ "!"

Great, now she was on a roll. He had to get her down before she did herself an injury. Or overloaded his brain.

"Yeah, I think we should see other people."

To his relief she sobered again, at least a little. "But we can go, right?"

Celebrate their anniversary in Vegas, just the two of them, enjoying a weekend of pure fun? Well, why on earth not? There was no danger of running into his father, since he always took his vacation this time of the year, and he would be able to make up with Joey too …

"Yes. It's a great idea!" Monica squealed softly when he swept her up in his arms and kissed her, pressing against him enthusiastically.

"Okay, I'm gonna go too!" He had all but forgotten about Phoebe on the couch – but of course she was never one for letting herself be ignored.

"You know Pheebs, it's kinda **our** anniversary ..." he protested lamely.

"Oh please, you are not gonna ditch again like you did with London."

"Ditch you? Phoebe, you were pregnant with the triplets!" Monica pointed out, completely in vain of course.

"Uh-huh, great story! I'm going!"

Great. Just great. The same story as always. Now he could only hope that Phoebe would be so taken with the diversions in Vegas that he and Monica would be able to snatch a little alone time for themselves there.

And here were Ross and Rachel, and yes, of course Phoebe had to invite them too, almost bowling over with exaggerated joy.

"Hey, you guys, listen, this weekend we're all gonna go to Las Vegas to surprise Joey! Including me! You wanna go?!"

Of course they did, even if they both decided to catch up with them the following day, because for once Rachel actually rated a work thing with higher priority than a fun weekend, and Ross apparently just couldn't forego the chance to show off his carefully constructed self-image of a knowledgeable and ardent art connoisseur and miss the Van-Gogh exhibition, not even for a weekend in Las Vegas.

"Art lover" he only realized he had said it out loud when everybody stared at him, the expressions ranging from merely puzzled to outright shocked in Ross' case.

"Is that supposed to be an insult?"

"I don't know, I'm very tired" he mumbled. It was true, he was quite tired – he hadn't slept in days after all. And resigned too. What was the use of protesting against all of them coming to Las Vegas? Ever since that tightly knit group of theirs had formed they had always shared everything. Ross and Rachel had staged their lengthy and bitter break-up practically in front of them, Ross had all invited them to watch him bungling his marriage with Emily before it had even started, and each and every one of them had let everybody else watch and witness their various relationships develop, carried on and go to hell again and again. One of the chief reasons he and Monica had kept their relationship secret had been just for that – so that the others wouldn't get a chance to interfere and maybe spoil it until it was solid enough to withstand any outside influence. But once they finally revealed themselves, all chances of keeping their relationship private and to themselves were as good as forfeited.

Well, maybe it was better that way. Try as he might, he still felt anxious. True, the fact that he and Monica had managed to keep their relationship going for one whole year was really amazing, almost unbelievable, especially considering how it had started. He was very sure he wanted to maintain it, keep it going at all costs. It was the best thing that had ever happened to him. But he was also very much aware of the dangers that could jeopardize it, rock their boat when they were least expecting it. One year was an awful lot – neither of them had ever been with someone that long – but it was still early days in the greater scheme of things. Maybe the presence of their friends would ensure that any troubles looming would be at least buffered and perhaps even circumvented. What else were friends good for?

While Phoebe teased Rachel about her penchant for naked alone time and Ross was on the phone, holding forth about the attractions of the Van Gogh exhibition to a poor airline employee, he followed Monica to the kitchen to watch her preparing the snacks and drinks for their evening together.

"Hey, are you okay? You look so thoughtful."

"Naw, just tired. What time is our flight?"

"Oh, I almost forgot, I need to change it, so Phoebe can fly with us!" And she rushed off to snatch the phone away from Ross and thus deliver the airline employee from her brother's sermon. Chandler sighed. So they would not even get a chance to be alone on their flight to Vegas. Great. Just great.

.

By the time they were finally alone snuggling in his bed in his room, it was almost midnight. And now it was Monica who was still wide awake – and fully charged it seemed to him – while he could barely keep his eyes open.

"Did you pack everything?"

"No. I told you, I'll do it tomorrow. I always forget half when I pack early."

"I could pack for you!"

"No! Mon, please don't. Please?"

Monica got into the bed again, with that mulish expression on her face he knew so well.

"Why are you so nervous anyway? I mean, granted it's our anniversary, and you want it to be perfect, but –"

"I'm fine!" And she pulled him close, clenching her hands in his t-shirt. "See? Not nervous. Not a bit."

"Hum." Chandler wasn't convinced, then he suddenly thought of something. "Hey, how about I give you my present now?"

For a moment she seemed tempted, but then she shook her head.

"Um – no, I'd rather you give it to me tomorrow. When it's really our anniversary. You know – 9.15 p.m. London Time."

"But you gave me yours today already."

"I know, and that's why I want yours tomorrow."

Chandler glanced at the clock on the nightstand and smiled. "Today, you mean?"

Monica squealed and pressed herself against him, smothering him with kisses. "Yes! Happy anniversary!"

He wrapped his arms around her, holding her on top of him until their bodies seemed to fuse into each other, locking almost seamlessly. Her hair fell into his face when they kissed and he could feel her heartbeat under his hands, now speeding up even more.

One year. One unbelievable year. One year ago today they had been just friends, lonely, frustrated, insecure, always apprehensive about what the future held in store for them. Now they had made it through one whole year together and try as he might he couldn't think of anything that could tear them apart. They would continue with their baby steps program of course – it had already gotten them that far, so why stop now? – but with one year under their belt the future definitely looked promising. Much more so than one year ago.

When he sensed that she was ready he rolled her over and got on top, groaning with satisfaction when she grabbed his penis and guided it inside her and then stifling her moan with his kiss.

"Happy anniversary, Monica" he mumbled into her mouth, closing his eyes when her arms tightened around him and she kissed him back.


	16. A Minor Setback

Monica was firmly and unwaveringly determined that absolutely nothing would go wrong on their anniversary in Vegas. After all she had planned it herself so everything just had to turn out great, wonderful, unforgettable. Or else. And never mind the minor setbacks.

Like that stupid lunch with Richard. Yes, by now she regretted telling Phoebe about it, but it had been rather inevitable. Meeting him, seeing him had somehow confirmed what she had long since suspected: that she was definitely undoubtedly over him. He really didn't mean anything to her, not anymore, not even a tiny little bit, and she was dead sure of that now and all thanks to that awkward meeting. So how could she ever have kept that revelation to herself? This enormous relief, this triumph over the past! Everybody should know about it! It needed to be screamed in big headlines, shouted from the rooftops, spread around the world so everybody would finally understand and remember it. Especially because somehow, even after all that time and all those other boyfriends so many people still seemed to believe that she wasn't over Richard. Not completely. Some even seemed to think – if you could call that thinking - that he was still the Love of her Life whatever that meant. In her view it simply meant that those people were just lazy. Unable or even unwilling to adapt to a new set of ideas. And that was not only quite maddening but also dangerous, especially where her relationship with Chandler was concerned. So this unexpected meeting had been just what she'd needed to prove, to herself and the others too, that Richard was over and past, and she was over him. And it was good that she had been able to tell Phoebe first because if anyone was still, well, unconvinced and sceptic about her relationship with Chandler it was her. Monica couldn't quite figure out why this was so, but thought it was possible that their relationship was just too 'tame' for her friend. It seemed that Phoebe did not believe in relationships that didn't involve a lot of yelling and crying, jumping on each other in public, mooning and soul searching and other public displays of emotion that Monica abhorred. A relationship like the one she had with Chandler probably didn't appear 'real' to her and more like a functional one, just for convenience. So it was a good thing she had told her, and it would have been even better if she could have told everyone else at the same time too. All those doubters and lazy thinkers and everybody else.

Well … everybody except Chandler. While it was a good thing that she was over Richard and something he needed to know too, she just knew she couldn't tell him that she met Richard and had lunch with him and make him understand it the way she had. He would see it – differently. Yes, she had vowed to herself to always be honest with him and tell him everything, and she would do it, definitely – but not quite yet. It was just too dangerous to tell him she'd seen Richard and risk spoiling the wonderful anniversary they were going to have with something so unimportant and meaningless. It would only worry and upset him unnecessary and she just couldn't do that to him, not now. Not now when the day had finally arrived and they were on their way to Vegas to celebrate one year of a wonderful and promising relationship. Afterwards, when they had returned, strengthened and confirmed in their love to face their daily routine again would be the right time. Or maybe it would have become too insignificant and unimportant by then to be mentioned at all…

And so far everything had gone according to plan. To her plan of course. The flights, the hotel room, the shows and activities, the sightseeing, everything had been meticulously prepared and laid down. She had even managed to nail a special offer for a suite for the price of a single room for the weekend. And when Phoebe had invited herself to their trip so suddenly it had almost been child's play to her to change their flight to a later one and book them adjoining seats too. No problem at all for someone with her organizational skills. Admittedly it only occurred to her afterwards that this meant that she and Chandler would have no privacy with Phoebe in the next seat. But better her than some random stranger.

It was only when they were finally on the plane and on route to Vegas that the first doubts made themselves felt. Maybe some random stranger would maybe have been preferable after all? Especially when Phoebe kept asking them if London really had been better than Vegas, practically from the lift-off onwards. Apparently she was dead set on proving to them – and probably herself too – that any trip where she herself was part of must be worlds better than the one trip she had not been able to be a part of. In a way she was as wildly determined as Monica to make sure this trip would be unforgettable, if for quite different reasons. As enervating as it was Monica just hadn't the heart to blow her off. She did feel just a little bit guilty that Phoebe had been excluded from so much in her life in the past year. Such a hard year too – with the pregnancy, giving up the triplets, losing her grandmother and the failed relationship with Gary, so many bad things in the exact same time span that had worked out so great for her. So why begrudge her the fun she had now? Later, once they'd arrived in Vegas, Chandler and she would have all the time alone together they wanted. That thought enabled her to grin and bear it when Phoebe fell back on the same question for what felt like the hundredth time.

"So, so far is this trip to Vegas better or worse than the trip to London?"

Thankfully Chandler took over this time. "So it's pretty much the same Pheebs."

"Okay, what about after I give you these candies?" Ah, the old bribing with sweeties trick. It took all her will power not to snigger outright, but Chandler seemed quite pleased – or maybe he was playing along too.

"Yeah, I guess it's a little better now."

"Ah-ha!" Now she actually got out a notepad to take down the 'score'. "Okay, Las Vegas 1, London 0!" In spite of herself Monica was impressed. She always thought she was the only one of her friends who did this.

And then wonders upon wonders, Phoebe got up to go to the bathroom. "I'll be right back." She actually left them alone! Just for a few minutes, but better than nothing. Chandler seemed to feel the same way, for he grinned at her cheerfully.

"Happy plane-aversary!" Aw, and here she had thought he didn't like all those anniversary puns she'd made up.

"Aww! I love you!"

Now he felt around under his seat for his hold-all. "Can I give you a present now?"

"Okay!" Monica wasn't quite sure if it was already past 9 pm in London, but it was probably the only chance they would get on this flight. Technically it wasn't their 'real' anniversary today anyway, but since that fateful day in London one year ago had been a Friday and not a Saturday she felt that the anniversary had started already today.

"Okay!" Chandler started to feel around the contents of his hold-all which seemed half empty to her. She wished again that he had let her pack it, but he had insisted. And now he suddenly winced, still hunched over his bag while his rummaging got a good deal more frantic, and finally held himself very still. "Oh man! Don't tell me I did this!"

Aw, another of his jokes. How did it never grow old for him?

"I love the "I forgot the present" fake out!"

Now he looked at her with that sheepish grin she knew so well almost fixed on his face.

"How do you feel about the, "I really did forgot the present, please forgive me" not fake out?"

For a moment she was really tempted to scold him, or at the very least remind him about her offer to pack for him, but then she relented. What the heck, it was their anniversary. They needed to be happy, not tear themselves up over things that didn't matter.

"Oh that's okay. Don't worry about it, you can give it to me when we get back." Unfortunately Chandler couldn't get over his fail so easy. In fact it looked as if he would love to kick himself. Repeatedly. She knew that he was quite capable of persisting in this mood for hours if she didn't find anything soon to distract him.

"Ohh, that's the **worst** thing that can happen on an anniversary ever!"

Monica only noticed that Phoebe had come back in time to catch this outburst, when she sat down again in her seat, casually dropping the bombshell as if out of the blue. "Oh good! All right, so you decided to tell him about the Richard thing."

It was as if time had suddenly come to a standstill. Monica felt as if she had frozen on the spot, unable to look at Chandler even if she had wanted to. Which she didn't. Well, she had wanted to distract him, didn't she?

"What-what Richard thing?" he asked now, oh so casually.

Phoebe actually had the grace to look dismayed. "Oh … no." Monica dearly wished she could bring herself to jump at her friend and throttle that horrible 'Oh no' out of her for good. Why, why, why did that have to happen? Why did she always have to be that way? How could she, Monica, not have foreseen this?

"What Richard thing?" Chandler repeated, his casual tone now with a slight edge. And oh god, he had crossed his arms now. What could she tell him? What?!

"Simmons! Go with Simmons!" Phoebe suggested under her breath, but rather unhelpfully. What else could she expect? Monica took a deep breath and resigned herself to the inevitable.

"Okay, I umm, I ran into Richard yesterday and he asked me if I wanted to go for a bite and I did. The only reason I didn't tell you is because I knew you'd get mad and I didn't want to spoil our anniversary."

It sounded so lame even to her own ears. When she at last stole a look at Chandler's face, she couldn't discern what he thought about her explanation.

"I'm not mad." It sounded strange though, as if he was talking out of the corner of his mouth. Or rather, through his clenched teeth. And he still kept his arms crossed. Oh dear.

"Really?!"

"Oh yeah! Yeah, so you-you bumped into Richard! You grabbed a bite! It's no big deal."

It was though. Everything about him from his crossed arms to his grim expression seemed to shout out loud that it was. Monica wanted to believe that it was alright, but really she knew that all was lost.

This was followed by an almost painful pause where they both stared at nothing, unwilling or unable to come up with anything that would get them past the sudden icy tension.

Then Phoebe sighed deeply. "Okay, London 1…This is gonna be a real horserace."

For a short – very short - moment the two of them shared an almost identical look of exasperation at their friend. But rather than helping them over the awkwardness it seemed only to strengthen it. And then the moment had passed again and Chandler was still frowning, refusing to meet Monica's pleading gaze.

"Chandler … look, I didn't tell you because I thought it wasn't important, okay? It didn't mean anything to me!"

His look – oh god, his look, so bitter and reproachful. "Oh yeah? What happened to 'let's always be honest with each other and share everything'? Since when does that not include getting together with your old boyfriend?"

"He's not my boyfriend! Will you stop calling him that?!"

"When you tell me about meeting him!"

"It didn't mean anything!"

"But you told Phoebe!"

"Um, please, guys, could you leave me out of it – ah, okay. You can't. Okay." Phoebe hunched back in her seat, clutching her notebook. Monica suddenly realized that she was making a scene, right in the middle of a plane, with strange people all around them, and leaned back in her seat resignedly.

"Yes. I guess I did."

"But I thought it was Richard Simmonds!" Phoebe offered, still not very helpfully. Monica couldn't even bring herself to glare at her.

.

Just a minor setback. It had to be. It meant nothing in the big scheme of things. She still had her plan, her carefully worked-out schedule and she was determined to keep to it. Surely something as stupid and meaningless as that argument – was it even an argument? It seemed more like a squabble to her, or an extended sulk on Chandler's part – wouldn't/couldn't spoil it? They still had the whole weekend to make up after all and the "real" anniversary would start only tomorrow anyway.

So she put up a brave front, determinedly ignoring Chandler's relentless silent sulking and even suffered Phoebe's excited nattering with as much good cheer as she could manage. All of it – the delay at landing, the further delay until her suitcase finally appeared on the carousel (if only she had confined herself to hand baggage like Chandler and Phoebe), the endless wait for the bus she had thought would be more enjoyable for the ride into the city instead of a cab – were just trifles. Minor setbacks, nothing more. Everything would turn out alright in the end. It just had to. She was still determined not to give up yet. This was the day she had been waiting for and she would be damned if she didn't at least put up a good fight for it to succeed after all. If she had to lose out, at least she would do so with her colors flying.

At last the coach arrived at Caesar's Palace and they trudged through the entrance, trailing their luggage behind them. The lobby inside was filled with the noise from slot machines and gaming tables and teeming with people. While Phoebe was drinking it all in and getting more excited by the minute and Chandler still persisted in giving her the silent treatment, Monica started to wish she was already in their room and in bed, pulling the covers over her head.

How could such a wonderful day turn out so bad?

"This place is so much better than London! Okay?" Phoebe enthused. "This lady dressed like Cleopatra gave me a coupon, 99 cent steak and lobster dinner. Huh!"

"Phoebe, you don't eat animals." Monica said wearily.

"For 99 cents, I'd eat you." Phoebe retorted, almost intoxicated by now. "Okay, I can totally settle down here! It's got everything I could ever want - - including Joey! Look! Oh! Look! Hi!"

She was right. There was Joey, their friend Joey, in some strange sort of gladiator costume, standing at a roulette table under one of the awful fake marble statues and taking a picture with two old ladies.

"Oh my God." Chandler said faintly and she remembered how much he had beaten himself up over his fight with Joey. To see him like this must really feel like a gush of cold water.

"Hey! Joey!" Phoebe was already heading over to him, shouting out and waving. When he caught sight of her Joey looked as if he wanted to run, Roman armor and all, but then Phoebe was already hugging him. "Hey! Hey! Wow!"

"Hi!" Joey said weakly, looking bewildered and rather panicked too.

"Love your condoms my man." Chandler said dryly, eying his costume.

"What-what are you guys doing here? I thought I told you not to come!"

"Why are you dressed as a gladiator?" Phoebe asked in honest curiosity. Monica was way ahead of her already, in spite of Joey's weak attempts at fobbing them off by pretending he was shooting a scene, even trying to rope in a harmless old lady nearby as 'director', before admitting defeat at last.

"All right, all right, it's not a gladiator movie. I work here."

Taking pictures with tourists. A long way from starring in a movie, giving interviews and signing autographs, and so not how she had imagined their meeting with him in Vegas on their anniversary. Why did that not surprise her? Everything else had refused to work the way she'd planned it.

"Why?! What happened?!" Chandler asked, still pretending he didn't know. And he had been the first to voice his doubts about Joey's 'big break'.

"Well, the movie got shutdown because they ran out of money, so I'm working here 'til it starts up again, if it ever does."

"I'm so sorry." And Monica really meant it. It was always so heartbreaking to watch Joey take another dive from some cherished dream. He really deserved better.

"Look, I'm sorry I didn't tell ya," he said now, and then addressed Chandler specifically. "I'm sorry man." One week, one whole week of insomnia and guilt, and Chandler didn't even blink at this lame apology.

"No-no, that's okay, apparently there's a new policy where we don't have to share everything with everybody."

Monica's patience was finally wearing thin. "I **knew** you were not okay with that!" She had wanted to tell him! Really! Eventually …

Phoebe made another gallant effort to distract them from Chandler's biting sarcasm. "So you're a gladiator! Wow!"

But Joey would not be distracted, most probably because he was glad for anything that turned the attention away from him and his job. "Yeah, what-what's going on?"

"Monica had lunch with Richard." Phoebe told him in a hushed voice that sounded as if Monica had met with a near fatal accident. Joey's face lit up. "Dawson?!"

"Noo! But that would've been so cool!"

"No!" Chandler spat. "Her _**boyfriend**_ Richard!"

Alright. Enough was enough. There was only so much she could take.

"It meant nothing! Okay? After all this time, how can you **not** trust me?"

"When you go lunching with hunky mustache men and don't tell me about it!"

It was only then that she felt the terrible hurt behind the sarcasm and suddenly found herself giving in automatically, without even thinking about it.

"You're right. I'm sorry. I should've told you."

And wonders upon wonders, that simple admission did the trick, where all the arguing and feeble explanations had failed. Chandler's arms opened to her at last and they drew together like two halves joining to make a whole.

"Thanks." Oh the relief in his voice. It was as if a huge weight had lifted from her. She dimly heard Joey and Phoebe exclaiming over them (Aww, there we go…I **love** Vegas!) and couldn't stop herself from almost babbling with relief.

"Aw. I promise you, next time I will absolutely tell you!"

And just like that it was over again. She felt him go rigid and then he pushed her away already, frowning.

"Next time?!"

"Ooh, so close." Joey moaned. This simply couldn't be happening. What was wrong with him? What was wrong with the universe?

"There's not gonna be a next time! You cannot ever see him again!"

Wait what? Seriously? Now he was bossing her around?

"I cannot see him? I mean, you can't tell me what to do!"

"That's so funny, because I think I just did!"

That finally did it. She could understand jealousy and insecurity, but this was too much. Once she gave in to that, who knew what he would demand next. "Oh you know what? If you're gonna be acting like this all night, I really, I don't even want to be around you."

"Fine with me!" he spat. Of course he did, confrontations like this got him on the defensive almost automatically.

"Fine! Happy Anniversary!" she shot back. Yup. This was it. Their anniversary had now officially gone down the toilet, before it had even started.

"Whoa! Whoa! Guys! Please! Come on! Come on! This is obviously just a **big** misunderstanding!" Joey's weak attempt at reconciliation only ended with him as new target of their pent-up anger and he drew back again, throwing up his hands. "Hey, don't look at me! I just work here!"

After that final setback – which was anything but minor, or even average - she was too angry and upset to even consider any attempt to make-up. Not even when Chandler decided to spend the night in Joey's room after they'd checked in so that she ended up alone in the two room suite. The big suite she had been so proud of netting and that now felt like a cruel joke.

Later that night, after she had tried to exhaust herself with dinner, drinks, shows, gambling and more drinks with Phoebe who seemed determined to squeeze everything that Las Vegas had to offer to the last drop she finally found herself alone in the suite, sitting on the king-size bed. And suddenly it came to her that exactly one year ago she had sat on her hotel bed in London just like this, fighting a losing battle with her anger and frustration very similar to this one. One amazing year in which so much had happened. It couldn't all be for nothing just for one stupid fight. This was no way to end this wonderful thing they had going. They would make up again, she was sure of it. But now it was his turn. She had gone to him in London. He had to come back to her in Vegas.

And maybe it would turn out to be only a minor setback after all.

.

Except on the following day Monica felt her resolution waver. She had been fairly confident that Chandler would find her sometime in the morning or at least at noon, but now it was afternoon and still there was no sign of him. Now she and Phoebe were sitting at the bar where she could keep an eye on the doors to the lobby and the lifts and wondered, for what felt like the thousandth time if she was doing the right thing. If this went on much longer, their anniversary would be over without any reconciliation. Or even without them being together at all.

"I can't believe this! This is like the worst night ever!"

But Phoebe seemed unperturbed. "You know, Monica, you had a minor setback in your relationship with Chandler." She shrugged dismissively. "Big deal! It's only Chandler."

Monica could only gape at her, speechless, and Phoebe hurriedly changed her tune at her outraged expression.

"I am **so** sorry!"

Monica sighed wearily. "This is crazy! I mean, it's such a stupid argument. I don't even wanna see Richard again."

"So go fix it! Go find Chandler!" Phoebe grinned wryly when Monica stared at her. "He's probably up in your room! Tell him that you're sorry and that you love him."

And all at once Monica realized that Phoebe was right. Phoebe of all people, who never seemed to take their relationship seriously or even be capable of understanding it in the first place, that same Phoebe was now giving her the best advice she'd heard in months.

"You know what? You're right Phoebe. You're right. Thank you!" She got up and headed to the doors, leaving her hardly tasted drink behind without any qualms whatsoever. Dimly she could hear Phoebe cheering behind her as she picked her way between the gambling tables.

"Yeah! Las Vegas, number one!"

She noticed the chip on the floor as she passed a craps table where the game was just getting heated. It was a five dollar chip, not exactly a trifle, so she picked it up to return it to its rightful owner or at least someone who would claim it.

"Anybody lose this?" But apparently no one had and everybody's attention was fully on the game. At the croupier's meaningful glance Monica meekly put down the chip on the front line, half-hoping that this would rid her of it as it was swept up.

"Comin' out. Place your bet." The croupier intoned. "Dice are out ... Double or nothin'! Pay the front line!" And suddenly with no idea how it had happened Monica was holding two chips instead of one. She had won. She had doubled her bet. Things were starting to look up. Fortune was finally heading her way.

It had to be a sign. A sign that things would finally start to work out. That the bad times were past. But of course she needed to ride the wave and not get off again already, or it could turn against her, leaving her even worse off than before…

Alright then. Just a minor setback on her way to making up with Chandler. Nothing more. She waited so long for him to turn up that a few minutes delay wouldn't mean anything. Maybe he would be even more convinced of her sincerity if she took him some really sizable winnings to show him how much she had given up for his sake?

After all it would be only a short delay. Nothing more.


	17. She loves You

Yup, he was going to die here. Here in this ridiculous hotel room in the Caesar's, on this ridiculous trip to this crazy city, while his friends all seemed to expect him to put up with Monica dating Richard again without so much as a murmur – yes, dating. How anyone could believe even for one moment that this had purely been a chance meeting was beyond him. If it really had been, why had Monica gone to lunch with him? And then not told him about it? It had to be more. Come on, it was Richard. THE Richard. The larger than life Richard, Monica's most important boyfriend, the one who changed her life, who had such a big impact that he was still spoken of in awe by all who had known them. The one she had been so happy with that their breakup had nearly destroyed her. How could he even start to think she could resist him?

Yes, she had ended their relationship. But that was three years ago and he was still around, kept popping up when nobody expected it. What if she changed her mind? What if she had weighed everything Richard had to offer against what she had with her current boyfriend and decided that Richard would be the better deal? Or maybe even considered to go for both, keep Richard around as some kind of backup in case things didn't work out with him as she expected?

Maybe she was talking to him on the phone right now. Or maybe he had even flown over too and they were together now in that suite while he was languishing miserably in this tiny room. He should really have gone with her first just to make sure Richard wasn't waiting for her there already. That way he would at least know the room number. During the long and restless night he had considered going to her room and see how matters stood, but he had been unable to face the task of having to ask for his own room number at the reception.

Joey of course was no help at all. At first he had thought the two of them could make a night of it, making up for the week long estrangement, but it turned out Joey's job required him to work until well after midnight, after which his friend had stumbled straight to his bed and blissfully snored the rest of the night away. And after he was finally sufficiently rested and reasonably coherent again, the only thing he would talk about was his movie and the chance he had lost. The worst thing was that he couldn't seem to grasp the extent of Chandler's problem, unable or even unwilling to understand how dangerous Richard could be not only for him and Monica but for the group too. He'd even asked Chandler if Richard still had that Jaguar. And shortly after he'd embarked on yet another surefire money-hatching scheme that would deliver him from all worries as if by the flick of a magic wand – or maybe in this case the investment of a 100 dollar tip that begged to be wasted that way.

If only he could get out of this room. But outside was Vegas, the crazy city where there was the chance of meeting anybody, especially someone he most definitely didn't want to meet. Like his father. This was his turf after all. He thought his father was on a tour right now, but how could he be sure? For all he knew his mother could be in town too. And even if there was no danger in running into his parents, there was still Monica. He just couldn't face her right now. Seeing her meant listening to her explanations while all the time he would sense Richard's presence in her thoughts, his influence on her, his schemes. He just couldn't do it. Not yet. It needed some more time, also for her to realize how much of an issue this really was instead of a trifle or setback that could be dealt with by a simple 'it didn't mean anything'. Of course it meant something. It meant everything. And until she understood that and came to him first it was best if they kept apart.

Or so he believed.

By early afternoon Chandler had almost decided to cut his losses and go home, or at least get himself to the airport to try to get on an earlier flight than the one that Monica had booked, but still kept back because it meant that he'd have to pack once more, and of course abandoning Joey again. Also he'd have to get a new reservation, since he had no idea about the flight number because Monica had made all the reservations and bookings, and this almost rankled more than anything else. Why did she have to be so perfect in everything, taking over and running damn near all the things in his life he'd managed himself until they'd got together (though admittedly not as efficiently) and make everything seem so easy and natural on top? At the beginning of their relationship and well into it too he'd always dismissed the idea that Monica could have 'settled' for him for lack of other options and the ever present fear of losing out, never getting to fulfill her life's dream. But now that idea kept returning to his thoughts. Yes, there was their Baby Steps program that she had instigated, yes, she kept telling him that it was too early for them to think about marriage and kids, that she wanted to wait until their relationship was strong and solid enough – whenever that would be. Lately he had begun to doubt that it would ever be – so maybe she was doubting it now too? Maybe now, after all that time she felt that the Baby Steps program was too rational and boring and she was longing for romance again, for a Prince Charming to sweep her off her feet in a whirlwind romance? He knew that their friends, especially Phoebe, still couldn't quite believe that their relationship was serious, probably because they had been friends for so long before. In their minds a true relationship was still all about love at first sight, intense courting, overwhelming emotions, tears, anguish and bliss, a dream wedding and happiness ever after, forever unmarred by dirty dishes, diapers and arguments. Until recently he'd thought that Monica had left that kind of thinking behind, grown out of it, but now – how could he be sure? Especially with Richard keeping popping out of the woodwork all the time?

So going home wasn't probably the best idea. But neither was staying here, in this awful hotel room, slumping on the bed while tearing himself up over the Richard thing over and over again, hoping against all hope that Monica would come to fetch him and deliver him from his pain. But instead it was Joey once more rousing him from his slump, returning in what seemed like record time, minus his 100 dollars, but with a brand new scheme even more delusional than the earlier one. Identical handtwin indeed. Who else but Joey would be capable of thinking of such a harebrained thing? Even considering how starved and frantic for success and acclaim Joey must be by now this was the height of absurdity. On a scale from 1 to 10 of dumb schemes this would probably range somewhere in the nineties. Chandler fervently hoped that Joey's clueless future partner would let his friend down gently and not call the men in white coats right away. Though Joey was right, this was Vegas after all, the very vortex of delusions and crazy dreams. And yes, he simply couldn't have Joey thinking that he was 'unsupporting' him once more and risk losing him over it. Again. Not over something as stupid as this. Losing himself in fantastic plans had always been the way Joey dealt with his life's problems, ignoring and dismissing them as soon as he could and setting out on ever new promising schemes and fantasies, never burdening himself with self-doubts and anxieties. Chandler found himself wishing for what felt like the umpteenth time he could be like that. Just once.

Just as Joey was about to leave the room there was a knock on the door which almost freaked him for a moment and startled Chandler into thinking that it could be Monica after all. But no, it was Phoebe. Only Phoebe, and of course her reaction to Joey's latest craze (Ooh, so lucky!) was the complete opposite of Chandler's and had Joey smirking in triumph as he left. So he couldn't even get something so obvious right. Naturally.

"Hey! So, where's Monica? Did you guys make up?"

Why would she think that all of a sudden? "No!"

Phoebe stared, nonplussed. "But she just came up here!"

"That was Joey!" Chandler pointed out dryly.

"I wonder where she is. That is so weird."

Weird described it perfectly. Chandler honestly couldn't tell who was trying his patience more, Phoebe or Joey. It was a toss-up. It seemed like all his friends were going crazy in Vegas – including Ross and Rachel who would probably be affected by the general craziness as soon as they made it here. Or even before that.

"Yeah, well, she's probably talking to Richard," he snapped and Phoebe glared at him.

"Would you stop that! Do you wanna know the first thing she said when she came back from her lunch with Richard? She didn't feel anything for him. She loves **you**!"

Could it be true? Monica coming for him because she wanted to make up? Coming from Phoebe, this made it almost plausible. Phoebe rooting for them instead of Richard? For the first time in nearly 24 hours Chandler felt a smidgen of hope.

"Really?"

"Yes! Now, she feels terrible! She really wants to make up! You gotta find her."

To Chandler her words were like the sight of palm trees on the horizon after a long crawl through the dry desert. If Phoebe of all people made herself an advocate for their making up, it had to be worth checking at least. Even if the oasis should turn out to be a mere fata morgana and Phoebe had only told him that to even out the score in the London-Vegas race, it was still better than staying in this dreary hotel room. Also Phoebe had said 'She loves **you'**. If that was true, maybe the nightmare was indeed finally over and he would be finally be able to enjoy their anniversary properly. Possibly even without Richard in the picture. If he was lucky.

.

As it turned out it was no problem at all to find Monica. If she really had intended to come to him and make up she certainly hadn't gotten very far. Only to the craps table in the casino that she was now practically running by herself, to the accompaniment of Tom Jones' lament 'It's not unusual' in the background while she was making her bets, throwing the dice and screaming and exulting over her triumph, jumping up and down and hugging everyone near her – in short, having the time of her life. Chandler thought that it was rather a shame he had to go and spoil it for her, cut all that fun off. And then he realized that this was the wrong way to go anyway. The way she was now she would probably fob him off or even ignore him, and before they knew it, they'd be fighting once more and storming off in opposite directions. Again. No, this called for a quite different approach.

So he turned around and headed back to his room again, silent and grim-faced. Phoebe had left again, presumably to try her luck with the one-armed bandits, and Joey hadn't gotten back from his identical hand-twin escapade yet, so there was nobody to stop him and make him reconsider which was all to the good. They would have no time for him anyway, infected with the Vegas craziness as they were by now. So the coast was clear, and sighing deeply once more he picked up his hold-all.

Yup. That should do it.

When Chandler got back to the lobby he ran into Ross and Rachel freshly arrived from the airport and quite obviously in the first stages of lunacy already judging by their endless quibbling, Rachel's serene ignorance about the state of her face and Ross' frantic winking and hushing motions to him behind her back. He made a token attempt to update him about Joey's situation, but soon realized that Ross was too caught up in his glee about whatever craziness he and Rachel had been up to, and then found he couldn't care less. Let them all go mental as much as they liked. He was well out of it.

At the craps table Monica was still on a big roll, jumping up and down screaming and looking heartbreakingly beautiful with it too with her high color and shining eyes.

"All right baby, come on! Yes! **Yes**! I am on fire!"

Taking a deep breath Chandler slowly walked by her, casually toting his hold-all. "See you later, Mon."

"Wait, Chandler, what are you doing?!" She turned away from the game at once, her eyes wide with surprise, and Chandler steeled himself to sound as calm and matter-of-factly as possible.

"What does it look like? I'm going home."

"What? Wait! Why?!" Now she tried to hold him back, almost babbling with shock. "Chandler! Chandler! Wait! I'm sorry, I was just playing for one second!"

He made himself hesitate just a bit and then turned around to face her, keeping his face neutral. Monica seemed nearly frantic, her game quite forgotten.

"I was trying to find you! - to tell you that, look if you don't want me to see Richard again, I won't! He means nothing to me!"

It sounded good. In fact, it was pretty damn near convincing. But he had to make sure, so he kept his face blank as he propped himself up casually against a convenient pillar.

"Come on! I was there!" Unfortunately the pillar turned out to be the meaty thigh of one of those disgusting naked statues and wincing he drew his hand back. "I know he's the love of your life."

He could see it again in his mind. Poor post break-up Monica, so lost, confused, hurting, a picture of utter abject misery, her shirt buttoned up wrong, dark circles under her eyes, and completely beside herself. He'd never seen her in such a state, never before and most decidedly never again since. But she met his gaze steadily without flinching.

"Not anymore." It sounded so true that Chandler found himself wishing desperately that it was.

"Really?!"

"Really!" Once she got closer their bodies seemed to draw together almost on their own accord, his arms opening to her automatically as she hugged and kissed him. And it felt so right. So, so right. As if the past 24 hours had just been a bad dream. A nightmare that was now over. He'd quite forgotten that her touch could do that to him, set everything right, make all his doubts and anxieties vanish into thin air.

"All right?" Now her eyes were shining with joy while he still felt dazed from her kiss. "Let's forget about this going home stuff and celebrate our anniversary!" And with that she picked up his hold-all, probably to make sure he wouldn't take off after all, and then frowned.

"Okay, this is empty?!"

Chandler winced, recalling the pile of strewn clothing in his room. "Yeah, I wanted to make a dramatic scene, but I hate packing."

Monica stared. "A dramatic – but why?"

"How else could I hope to pry you away from that game?" He grinned when she started up in surprise and looked back at the craps table, then pulled herself together determinedly.

"But I was just … You know what? It doesn't matter. I was nearly finished anyway. Just let me get my stash - here, look at that! Huh! Isn't that amazing?"

The pile of chips was certainly impressive.

"Wow! Good thing I went back for my bag then."

Monica smiled and took his arm as they walked to the elevators. "Come on! Let's get your things and then I'll show you our suite. It's really great!"

"Oh yeah? No lipstick on the glasses? No carpet smell? Really Monica-great?"

She dug him playfully in the ribs. "Yes! It's perfect! There was only one thing missing."

"What was that?"

"You. You were missing."

"Oh." He winced at the silent reproach in her eyes. "Well, if it's any consolation, I made a vow last night to never spend another night with Joey again."

Her expression softened as she drew close again. "Aw, poor sweetie. That bad?"

After a quick scan Monica chose to wait at the door of his and Joey's room while he crammed his clothes and belongings into the hold-all as fast as he could, conscious of her barely reigned-in craving to grab a towel and start cleaning.

"Chandler ..?"

"Yeah, I got it, just my toothbrush –"

"Um, what did you mean when you said 'I was there'?"

"Huh? Oh. Well … You know, when you broke up with Richard. I saw what it did to you."

"So?"

"You wandered around in a daze like for a week. You couldn't remember where you worked, you couldn't sleep, you –"

"So? When you broke up with Kathy, you stayed in your room for two weeks. In your sweatpants! Even the birds were worried about you!"

"That's not the same –"

"Oh really? If Kathy suddenly turned up, wouldn't you grab a bite with her?"

"No -"

"Why not? Or if not Kathy, then what about Janice? Wouldn't you at least talk to her?"

Chandler winced. "She would probably kill me first."

Monica sighed. "Okay, not Janice then. What about – oh, what was her name? Aurora?"

"That man eater? I don't think so."

"Or maybe – damn it, I've run out of exes!" Seeing that he was finished with packing she led the way back to the elevators again, wrapping her arm around him as they waited in the hallway.

"Chandler, it may not be the same with your ex-girlfriends, but don't you see – I'm finished with Richard. I never want to be with him again. It's different now. I've got you! No matter how much I loved him – lov **ed** past tense, okay? - I want to be with you now, not him."

Fortunately for Chandler who for once didn't know what to say to this the elevator doors opened in front of them just then. They remained silent throughout the ride in the elevator and on the way to the suite. As Monica got out her roomcard she suddenly laughed.

"He showed me pictures of his grandkids, can you imagine?"

"Grandkids? Plural?"

"Yes. Michelle had one more and Timothy and his new girlfriend are expecting." Monica winced. "He had a sonogram of that too. That was when I realized."

"What?"

"That if I hadn't broken up with Richard, I'd be a grandmother now."

Chandler's jaw suddenly became unhinged and Monica shook her head wearily.

"Yeah, Nana Monica. That's what they would call me. Oh god! Chandler!" She clenched her hands in his sweater and grimaced. "Grandkids! How can I have grandkids without having kids first?"

"That's certainly putting the cart before the horse … Oh wow! That's the suite? Oh my god, that's – that's gotta be worth at least three lunches with Richard!"

"Ten," Monica sniffed. "You really like it?"

"And to think how I spent all day in that awful hole …" At her pointed look he sighed deeply. "You're right. I'm a total idiot. For doubting you and for thinking you would want grandkids with Richard."

"They were really cute though …" She laughed when his face fell and put her arms around his neck. "Chandler! This is here and now! Our anniversary! Let's forget about the past, okay?"

It felt so good to hold her, press against her and feel her body adjust to his and fitting his own to hers, breathe in her scent again at last. Before long he started to feel hot under his sweater, especially considering how thin and filmy her dress felt under his hands. Monica grabbed his head and pressed her mouth on his, her teeth grazing across his lips and her tongue urgently probing for his. Then quite suddenly she let him go and stood there staring at him, her hands still on his shoulders, her lipstick slightly smeared and her eyes huge and dark. When he gently nudged her into the direction of the bedroom she turned abruptly and, pulling him after her, led the way to the king size bed. Yes, king size, no twin beds in this beauty of a room. The sight of the bed alone made Chandler want to kick himself all over again over what he had missed. Now Monica stooped to swiftly discard her heels and lightly stepped on the bed to hold out her arms to him, her eyes shining.

"Happy anniversary" she whispered and then laughingly wrapped herself around him as he grabbed hold of her and brought her down onto the bed and under him.

The following minutes were a confused romping and cuddling on the bed, pressing against each other and kissing hungrily. Chandler managed to kick off his shoes and after some struggling and twisting to get out of his sweater too. He then found that Monica's dress was admirably suited for letting his hands roam around under it, stroking her and feeling her up without the need to search for any zippers or buttons. When it turned out that it was wide enough to allow his head and shoulders under it he urgently tugged her panties down and over her knees and pressed his face against her vulva to lick and suck at her clit while Monica squirmed and shook, screaming in wild abandon as she dug her nails into his shoulders.

.

"Mon?"

"Mmmhh…?"

"Um, it's probably a silly question – but did your anniversary plans include dinner?"

She stretched luxuriously before opening her eyes. "Dinner?! Right. Um, now that you mention it – yeah, let's go eat! I'm starving!"

And just like that she was already jumping out of bed and picking up her clothes while he was still heaving himself up and groaning as he scooted to the foot of the bed.

"Join me in the shower?"

"Um – you know what? Let's do that later."

"What? No! Ugh!"

"No! Hear me out! Let's just get something to eat first and then we take a really long shower. Together. A really long, hot, soapy, slick, foamy shower … I'll soap every inch of you!"

Monica considered. "Or … we could take a bath." Her eyes lit up. "Oooh, let's get some really nice bath oils! And candles!"

Chandler managed not to wince. "Right. A bath it is. After dinner." He caught hold of her as she fastened her bra and kissed her on the neck. "Our anniversary bath!"

.

Just as they got back from a quick dinner at a pizza place near the hotel they came across Phoebe who was still doggedly trying to get her machine to cough up its stash of coins and shooing off her lurker at the same time. When she caught sight of them arm-in arm and smiling in bliss her face lit up.

"Ohh! You made up!"

Monica put her arms around his middle and squeezed him. "Yeah, I couldn't be mad at him for too long."

"Yeah, she couldn't live without the Chan Love." Grinning he drew Monica close to kiss her, quite unselfconsciously too, even in front of Phoebe who was eying them quizzically.

"Ohh, get a room!"

"We have one." He could feel Monica shaking with laughter and barely managed to hold his own laughter back. Indeed they had.

"I know. Use it!"

He could have told her then and there that they already had put it to good use, but didn't bother after all. Let her wonder. As they walked away towards the lobby he found himself thinking that some things simply were too enjoyable to be told, and tightened his hold around Monica's waist. It was their anniversary after all. Theirs alone.

"So … about those bath things?"


	18. Something Old, Something New

It had taken too much – too much time and too much heartbreak – but now, finally, at long last, the bad times were over and her plan was coming back together. Her plan for a perfect anniversary. And Monica was going to see to it that it would be all the more perfect now that they were back together again. Back together with everything that had threatened to tear them apart finally done away with and in the past. Including the Richard thing. Especially the Richard thing.

Everything was alright with the world again. Even Phoebe had approved of their making up and suggested they get a room (and use it too). As if they didn't have a room already and also used it too, and would definitely use it again this night. And again. And again …

"So… about those bath things?" At first she could only smile blissfully at Chandler, not quite getting his meaning in her happiness and he had to repeat his question until she finally came down from her cloud nine, still smiling widely. But that was okay, he was grinning quite broadly too.

"Huh? Oh, yeah, absolutely. I think there's a shop in the lobby. That way!"

In the late afternoon the casino was filling up and they chose to walk along the sides of the hall to avoid the worst crowds. Just as Monica recognized the craps table she had gotten stuck at earlier on her way to find Chandler (it seemed like a lifetime ago now), one of the gamblers she remembered from before, a burly guy with a grizzled mustache in a yellow Hawaii shirt hailed her.

"Hey, it's the lucky lady! Come to play some more?"

To her surprise the other gamblers around the table turned around and chimed in, gesturing her to the table. A bit embarrassed – but quite thrilled too - Monica tried to fend them off, but to no avail.

"Aw, but sorry, you see I've got all I wanted already –"

"Oh come on. Please? Just one round!"

"If you can spare some, I could sure use a bit of luck …"

She looked at Chandler who grinned at her wryly. "That okay with you? I mean we've got some time, haven't we?" Immediately the other players turned to him too, making dog eyes and inviting them in at the head of the table. Even the croupiers seemed more than willing to allow her back into the game. Chandler's smile looked almost besotted and she realized that he felt proud of her and the attention she was getting. It made her quite giddy with happiness.

"Alright, but I can't promise anything!" she said and the resulting cheer made her feel as if she was floating. "I mean, I really don't know if I can do it anymore …" But someone pressed the dice in her hand already and then she was standing at the shooter's position once again – had it really been only three hours ago? - but this time with Chandler beside her, grinning and cheering her on together with the others, all the while keeping reassuringly close to her, with his hand on her back or her arm as he provided the numbers she rolled for, making them a team.

And it worked. It still worked. Against all odds it still worked, every time she threw the dice, feeling as if no one and nothing could stop her roll. No matter how she threw the dice, no matter where they landed, they came out the way she wanted them. Soon she ran out of things to throw for.

"A new pair of shoes for the Chan-Chan man!" She already had rolled for a new suit, a video console, a gold tie pin and other things for him, feeling that it wouldn't work if she rolled for something for herself, and still her luck held. "Yes!"

"Yes! I've never seen a roll like this in my life!" Now Chandler seemed quite awed. It gave her an incredible boost.

"That's right baby! Okay, what do I want now?"

"Okay, ah umm, ah, an eight. Ah, a six?"

"Pick a number! That is your **only** job!" Even as she said it, she regretted her snappish tone, but all the excitement was just too much to bear and he didn't seem to mind really. Yet.

"Eight! Eight!"

"Thank you!"

"If you get this one, we buy everybody here a steak dinner!" Chandler suddenly announced rather grandly, making everybody cheer again. Oh god, would it still work if it wasn't for Chandler? Well, only one way to find out –

"Eight!" the croupier called as she threw her arms around Chandler and hugged him for dear life.

"Yes!" It was too good to be true and a sudden disturbing thought almost jerked her out of her bliss.

"We're not really gonna buy these people steak dinners are we?"

"Noo!" Chandler's amused dismissal was very reassuring. Alright, back to the game.

"Okay, good! Okay, what do I want now?"

"Ahh, ooh, try a hard eight!"

"What?"

"Two fours," he explained and Monica shook the dice in her hand, picturing the two fours coming out on top. When she rolled them everybody seemed to hold their breath, freezing where they stood, their eyes glued to the table. But even as she let them go she knew how they would end up. It seemed inevitable somehow.

"Eight!" A hard eight of course. She had done it again. As she had known she would.

An elderly gambler in one of those tacky blue caps with the Caesars' logo on it pointed his beer bottle at them as he ponderously addressed Chandler, his boozy breath almost lifting her off her feet.

"Don't you let her go! You're a lucky guy!"

"Thank you, Mister Drunken Gambler!" Chandler hardly batted an eyelid. "Okay, you get this and uh, we get the biggest suite in the place!" As everyone cheered wildly he gestured for silence, back-paddling frantically. "Wait-wait-wait-wait! **We** get the biggest suite in the place."

There were some long faces, but as she shook the dice again everybody started cheering again madly. Even the croupiers joined in.

"All right, biggest suite in the place. Come on!"

And off they sailed. She almost didn't dare to look, the tiny part in her brain that was still sane suddenly doubting her luck, while deep down in her heart she already knew the outcome and rejoiced.

And of course the hard eight came up again. Chandler seemed ready to jump on the table and dance.

"Yes! I love you! I can't even remember what we were fighting about!"

She started to respond almost automatically when her brain kicked in at the very last second.

"Oh, that's because I had lunch with Rich— um, me neither!" Whew, that was close. There it had been, the specter of Richard looming large – but now she had banished him for good. Forever. Or so she fervently hoped.

"Okay, what do I want now?"

Chandler's eyes gleamed madly as he dared her. "Another hard eight."

"Hard eight?! We should call it easy eight!" It really felt to her as if she could roll hard eights all night. Nothing to it, baby.

"Okay, okay, I tell you what. You roll another hard eight …" Chandler paused dramatically, waiting until he had her full attention "… and we get married. Here. Tonight."

Monica felt as if her heart suddenly missed a beat. This couldn't be. This was definitely taking it too far.

Was it?!

"Go! Come on! Roll!" Booze-breath almost screamed at them and the other gamblers took up the cheer.

"Roll! Roll! Roll!" Until she couldn't take it anymore.

"Shut up!" She waited until everybody had fallen silent. "It **just** got interesting!"

When they subsided, waiting for her cue she turned to Chandler, half expecting him to back down, take it back …

"What did you just say?"

But no, he just looked at her with shining eyes, standing his ground.

"You roll another hard eight and we get married here tonight."

She still couldn't believe it. Get married? Now? Here?

"Are you serious?!"

He smiled tenderly at her as he put a hand to her cheek. "Yes! I love you! I've never loved anybody as much as I love you."

His words seemed to go right into her gut, making her knees go weak all of a sudden.

"I've never loved anybody as much as I love you."

She wished she could stop time and preserve this moment forever as a shining bubble of utter happiness in her soul. But already life was moving on.

"Okay, so if an eight comes up, we take it as a sign and we do it! What do you say?"

There it was, the ultimate challenge of their luck, the highest stakes of all. She was almost afraid to accept it, but of course there was only one answer she could give, only one way it could go, here and now, in this crazy magical city where nothing was impossible and everything went.

"Okay!"

"Okay! Come on! Let's go! All right!"

She rolled the dice without thinking about it, throwing them blindly, daring fate and fortune to stay with her through this madness.

As they held their breath, almost frozen in place, one of the dice bounced out of the table, vanishing behind the opposite end. Chandler craned his head to see the other one.

"Okay! That's a four! And where - where's the other one?"

"It went under the table." When Booze-breath set about to look for it Monica suddenly realized that this was too important to let someone else find out. Even if it counted in the game after all (which it didn't), this was hers and Chandler's alone. Their very own shot.

"Nobody move!" Everybody froze and the part of her that always took joy in successfully bossing people around (for their own good of course) swelled with pride. "Okay, you look that way; I'll look this way!"

Chandler almost snapped to attention. "All right!"

She checked along and under the table on her side, around all the feet, hurrying but still careful, first only bending over and then going on her hands and knees as she approached the other end of the table. Just as she spotted the die on the floor right at the far leg of the table Chandler came crawling around the corner, also on his hands and knees.

"Here it is! Here it is!"

The die hadn't landed on a side but was sitting on an edge, with both the four and the five equally visible, as if daring them anew to keep to their challenge.

Or offer them the chance to back down?

She couldn't decide this. But then, it hadn't been her idea in the first place.

"That could be a four or a five. It's your call."

There was a heart-stopping pause while Chandler pondered the die and then looked at her. And smiled hesitatingly, that slow sweet smile that she loved so much lighting up his face.

"It's a four."

It was a good thing she already was on her hands and knees or she would have swooned from it all. As it was her voice almost failed her. "I think so too ...!"

She didn't know if it was just pure chance that whoever was in charge of the background music at Caesars' let that song play then or if it was only playing in her head, but in the very moment they smiled at each other soppily and heartburstingly happy drew close for a long kiss, Dean Martin was providing the perfect soundtrack for it all.

 _Everybody loves somebody, sometime! Everybody falls in love somehow! Something in your kiss, just told me, my sometime, is now!_

 _._

After that things got a little, well, hazy. She remembered hugging a lot of people and shaking their hands while accepting numerous wishes for happiness and luck (as if they needed any more of that) and almost cracking her ribs in Booze-breath's bear hug. One of the croupiers had kindly offered to deposit their winnings and also provided directions to the nearest marriage license bureau (which happened to be located quite close to the hotel too) and furthermore to A Little White Chapel which she had already noticed on their arrival. Only when they were hurrying through the casino towards the lobby, still holding hands, she felt reality reasserting itself, at least a little. No matter how crazy it all seemed, how unorthodox and unexpected this turn of events was, there was something she simply couldn't do without. She was okay with getting married on the spur of the moment, and in the clothes she stood up in, without bridesmaids and maids of honor, even without a ring, but there were some traditions that she just could not forego. Not without putting the whole thing at risk.

"Wait – Chandler, wait a moment … we need something else first."

"And what might that be? A wedding carriage? Bridesmaids? A wedding dress with a 20 feet long train?"

"No!" Although deep down she was tempted. A little. Okay, maybe not so little. "If you don't want all that, I don't either."

Chandler's face fell. "Wait, does that mean I don't get to wear a tux and a top hat?! Ouch … Okay, so what do you need?"

She took a long look around. There was the bar, the news vendor and ticket shop, several ATMs and more slot machines, the hotel gift shop … yes! She wasn't quite sure if it had what she needed but it was worth a shot. So far everything had worked, why would it stop now? Somehow she felt that it would only stop if she hesitated or even chickened out and she wasn't going to do that. Not while she was on the roll. Not while it was so much fun.

Impatient now she ran towards it, Chandler barely able to keep up. Fortunately the shop was still quite deserted.

"Okay, come on, I can't get married until I get something old, something new, something borrowed, and something blue."

She half expected Chandler to object or at least scoff at the notion, but he hardly batted an eyelid and then surprised her even more by finding exactly what she needed.

"Okay, all right, all right, all right! Okay! Okay, here's something, here's something blue **and** new."

The something in question was a blue sweater with the hotel logo in gold on it. She didn't care much for the logo, but the color was perfect, almost the same as his sweater, which meant they could do this in partner look.

"You're so efficient. I love you!"

That got her another delighted grin. "Let's go!" My, he was really impatient to get married to her.

"No-no-no! We need something old!"

Chandler gravely considered this. "Um, I have a condom in my wallet that I've had since I was twelve …"

"That'll work!" Nineteen years counted as old, didn't it? Though Chandler winced.

"I don't think so."

A part of her – that notorious know-it-all - immediately wanted to explain it to him, but fortunately got swept away by her sense of urgency even before she realized that he was joking.

"Okay, now we just need something borrowed!"

Chandler pursed his lips and furtively checked if anybody was watching them, then he balled the sweater up and handed it to her surreptitiously. "Here, just…take this."

"That's _stealing_!" Monica protested, but faintly. Getting caught shoplifting wasn't her idea of preparing for her wedding. But Chandler waved her concerns away.

"No, we'll bring it back! Just put it under your dress."

At last she caught on. The something borrowed. Chandler was right, this way was much faster and more practical than finding a bored shopkeeper and explain why they couldn't pay for the sweater yet. And three out of four in one! She turned slightly and bunched the sweater to a ball before pushing it under her dress until it rested on her stomach, then cradled the bump tenderly in her hands, crooning to the pregnancy that had so suddenly popped into existence. For a moment she was afraid that she'd overdone it and almost expected Chandler to freak out at his sudden impromptu fatherhood, but he surprised her again by taking it all in his stride quite calmly.

"Okay, one thing at a time." And with that he hurriedly drew her out of the shop.

.

As they walked out of the hotel Monica still couldn't get over how wondrous and magical everything had suddenly become. What was happening here? Could this be really real? Or would it turn out to be just a dream? What if it stopped if she kept thinking about it and woke up? Could she risk that? Was it worth it?

Also she kept expecting problems and obstacles to stop or at least delay them from carrying out their crazy plan, but everything continued to go quite smoothly, almost eerily so. In a way it was as if Las Vegas was trying its best to make up for everything they had missed while they had been apart and even pave the way for them, showering them with luck and good fortune to boot.

At a safe distance from the shop she extracted the bundle from under her dress again and then put the sweater on. It was a little too big, but quite comfortable and she suddenly found herself wondering if they should pay for it later so they could keep it as a souvenir or if that would somehow turn the condition of it being 'borrowed' invalid and spoil everything. And then she laughed at herself.

When they found the marriage license bureau as if steered there by invisible hands – how else? - and a helpful clerk swiftly filled in the surprisingly short form for them after only the most cursory check of their driving licenses, her sense of wonder at the craziness of it all heightened even more. Could this really be as easy as that?

Except then the clerk suddenly frowned slightly at something on the form and Monica felt as if her heart skipped a beat. It would be too dreadful if this wonderful ride should be cut short just because of a stupid error in an application form –

"New York? Is that right?"

"Yes? Is there something wrong?"

"Would you rather we hailed from L.A.?" Chandler quipped. The clerk smiled distractedly and shook her head. "No, it's nothing. Just a funny coincidence. Everything's fine."

Monica would have liked her to elaborate further on that 'coincidence' but held back, suddenly afraid it would somehow spoil the magic and burst the bubble. So they just paid the fee and the clerk handed over the precious form, smiling at them with long practiced benevolence.

"Here you go, Mr Bing, Miss um, Geller. All the best!"

Much later Monica would remember – and understand - that business with the 'coincidence', but now she couldn't and wouldn't spare it a single thought. They had the form. The license to get married. Without any waiting, without any vows, without their friends and parents, far from home in this crazy, magical, wonderful place, on a spur-of-the-moment impulse, because they wanted to. Because it felt right.

Because they loved each other. With a license.

A marriage license from the State of Nevada, Clark County.

They could get married.

They would get married.

Married. Now. Today.

Then they were outside again, walking along the Strip hand in hand, slowly finding their way through the traffic of cars, busses, coaches and crowds of people among the lights and noises of a Las Vegas Saturday evening. Until then she hadn't realized how late it had gotten, but the sky overhead was already dark. It was still warm, but even though she had put on her something new, borrowed and blue she felt herself shivering.

She was going to get married to Chandler.

She was getting married.

Married.

She had dreamed of this so often and long, wished for it so hard and almost despaired too of ever achieving her goal, making her dream come true. And now she had gotten there so unexpectedly, without any preparation and planning, just like that, as easy and convenient as jumping into a swimming pool or a readymade bed.

How could this not be a dream?

A Las Vegas wedding. Without a wedding dress, without any bridesmaids, maids of honor or best man, without families and friends, without reception and – although that did elicit a slight pang – without wedding presents. A spontaneous spur-of-the moment magical dream wedding, in just the clothes she stood up in, to join herself to the man she loved wholeheartedly without question. Because it was worth it.

Because he was worth it.

And because if anything this would truly show him that he was worth all that to her, that she loved him so much she was willing to sacrifice her ideas of a proper wedding for him, and without any qualms and regrets too. Also if it would serve to banish the shadow of Richard once and for all, that was all to the good too.

"Here it is!" Only when Chandler stopped she realized that they were in fact standing before the renowned white building with the little church spire on top and the big billboard in front, and felt her breath hitch. Chandler squeezed her hand.

"Getting cold feet already?" he asked, twinkling at her and she grinned back.

"As much as I love that movie, but nope, no runaway bride here."

"Aw. But maybe they could do a shotgun wedding?"

She looked at him searchingly, her mouth suddenly dry. Could he really be serious? Or was this just his way of thumbing his nose at Richard and everybody else who would doubt the sincerity of his feelings, his commitment to her?

Slightly more serious now he returned her gaze unflinchingly, his mouth stretching into that slow sweet smile again.

"Are you sure you want to do this? Like this? Here? Now?"

"Yes!" she said firmly. "Here. And now. On our anniversary." And then suddenly something occurred to her.

"Speaking of our anniversary – actually we got another anniversary today. Well, tomorrow actually, but it was a Saturday too one year ago. Remember Ross' wedding in London?"

Chandler's mouth fell open. "Oh my god –! That's right!"

She laughed at this, feeling the happiness inside her bubbling over.

"Yeah, and this is why I'm fine with doing it like this. Without wedding dress, without bridesmaids and maids of honor, without our families and friends to watch and witness."

"Because like that it wouldn't be such a big disaster if I took off?" he teased.

"No! As if I would let you do that! No, because this way it's just ours. Our own wedding. Our secret wedding!"

His face lit up. "Oooh! You really think we can keep it secret?"

"I don't know" she admitted. "But that doesn't matter now! It's getting married that's important. Not all the stuff around it, that's just – window dressing. We are getting married, that's what counts."

"And that you've got your something old, something new, something borrowed and something blue."

She laughed. "Right! That too."

"So what are we waiting for?" And with a flourish he offered her his arm. She took it and pressed herself against it as they turned together and headed towards the entrance of the A Little White Wedding Chapel.


	19. Something Borrowed and Something Blue

It had to be a dream.

An amazing, wonderful, completely crazy dream, so crazy that Chandler couldn't remember having one like it while asleep, but certainly too crazy for him while he was awake. But what other explanation could there be? Explain how he of all people could have such a marvelously clear and convincing inspiration, to even consider getting married in Las Vegas, let alone going through with it without even a second thought, and on top of it, ask Monica of all people to marry him? On a mere whim, a spur of the moment idea, without a ring, without any wedding attire, without a best man and maid of honor, and yet, in spite of all those deficiencies, with absolutely no doubt in his mind that she would say yes, would agree to all the craziness and go along with it. Because she loved him - and that was probably the craziest, most unbelievable thing of all.

He was pretty sure that nothing remotely like this would ever have occurred to Richard. Or anybody else for that matter. Hell, it wouldn't have occurred to himself either if they had still been in New York. It had to be this place. Las Vegas. This mad, glittering, surreal, synthetic, dreamlike, cruel and wonderful city. The city of illusions that could break your heart, throw you in the gutter and catapult you to the highest peaks of success and happiness at the same time.

Maybe it was something in the water?

So here they were, on the sidewalk at the entrance of A Little White Chapel, with nothing but the clothes they stood up in, a brand-new marriage license and oh yes, the all-important something old, something new, something borrowed and something blue, all ready and willing to get married. Married. He was going to marry Monica, take her for his wife, say I do to her (with the right name of course), and never mind the fact that their friends weren't there, that nobody knew about it, that this step would not only undermine their baby step program but completely obliterate it. Render it obsolete, because why would they ever need it again when this giant step forward, this vaulting over a huge section of their relationship without so much as a second thought would once and for all prove their love for each other, cement their relationship and remove all the lingering doubts that they weren't meant for each other?

True, the enormousness of it all took his breath away and made his thoughts spin and whirl whenever he tried to get his head around it. But even if he had wanted to, it was too late now to back down again. As if he would even want to back down now when Monica was not only willing to go through with it, but moreover seemed really happy about it. So he was too. Deliriously happy in fact, exuberant, over the moon happy.

And what could go wrong? So far nothing had – on the contrary, everything and everyone involved had seemed to almost fall over themselves to pave the way for them, remove any obstacle, guide them and help them on the way to get it done. Get hitched. Get spliced. Joined at the hip. Close the deal. With all the signs pointing towards it, how could it be wrong for them to do it, to do it now and in this way?

No, it just couldn't be wrong. It felt right, everything seemed to tell him it was right, and he was happy, Monica was happy and as far as he knew everyone in the whole city was happy about it too. So it was right. Had to be right. Right?

Holding firmly to that thought he tried his utmost to appear casual and lighthearted as he walked – or rather strolled – into the waiting room of the chapel. Except for a pleasant-faced lady behind a desk the room was deserted. Which was fine for him. Monica herself had said that keeping the marriage secret would work so much better for them. It would be theirs alone, to cherish and hold dear forever.

"Hello! One marriage please!" he announced cheerfully, wondering how many times the attendant had heard that and similar announcements before. Hi, one ball and chain please. Hello, is this where we drop anchor? How ya doin', we need to get joined please. Hey, we'd like to take the plunge, is this where you get to say I do? Oh, have you got a broom here for us to jump over?

"Yep, we wanna get married!" Monica confirmed. The attendant gave them a warm and friendly smile that nonetheless managed to let all his jokes wither and die before he could even think of uttering them.

"Well, there's a service in progress. Have a seat."

"All right," they both mumbled sheepishly. So apparently that magic red carpet Vegas seemed to have unrolled before them to sweep them through all the proceedings and formalities so far seemed to have come to an end here. He wondered why that would feel so unsettling somehow, even to take the wind out of their sails. Maybe because this was the first obstacle – or rather delay – they had encountered on their way to get married, and in the A Little White Chapel of all places when everywhere else it had seemed so magically, unbelievingly easy all the time. Was this place immune somehow?

But no matter. They couldn't really expect to be the only couple intent on tying the knot and get hitched today. Not with all that magic abounding that made it so easy. It was only reasonable to allow that it would affect other couples in just the same way. It didn't change anything for them. Not when they were so close already, on the brink of doing it. He could already hear it, that magnificent sound of _The Wedding March_ blasting away in his head and couldn't resist humming it out loud as he grinned goofily at Monica.

"Dum! Dum-dum-dum! Dum! Dum! Dum! Dum-dum-dum!"

Monica's smile seemed a little strained however.

"What are you doing?"

"Oh, that's _The Wedding March_. Does that freak you out?"

"No, only because that's the Graduation Song," she pointed out.

Huh? How could she of all people not know the Wedding March? Except just when he wanted to hum it again, the actual _Wedding March_ began to play from behind the closed doors of the chapel, settling the matter in the most decisive way possible. Damn. Why did she have to be right all the freaking time? But no matter. It also meant that it was their turn now. The time had come. As he got up he suddenly felt as if all the moisture in his mouth had relocated to his palms.

"Okay! This is it! We're gonna get married!"

"Are you sure you wanna do this?" What was this, Monica getting cold feet now, of all times? Well, he was feeling pretty shaky too. But still so great.

And then the doors to the wedding chamber were thrown open and the couple that had beaten them to it came out, with wide, drunken grins on their faces that were still adorned with those silly drawings, laughing and cheering with exuberant joy as they skipped past them arm in arm towards the exit, never noticing Monica and him staring at them slack-jawed and frozen to the spot.

Ross and Rachel.

Ross and Rachel. Got married. In Vegas.

Even dumbstruck in shock as he was he couldn't help noticing that Rachel was holding a bouquet, something they hadn't even thought of getting. Maybe they gave you one after the ceremony?

"Well, hello, Mrs. Ross!" And was that rice his friend was throwing at his new bride now? Damn, what else did they forget? Or did they provide that too here? And did that really matter now?

"Well, hello, Mr. Rachel!" Rachel countered with rice of her own. Then the happy drunk couple turned towards the exit and stumbled out into the street, barely managing to keep to their course. And of course parted ways right after they'd cleared the threshold, stumbling and teetering away in opposite directions.

"Whoa!" Monica's jaw seemed to have become completely unhinged and Chandler knew exactly how she felt.

"Oh my god!" was all he could get out as they turned to each other to exchange a long baffled look of utter incredulity.

And then, as if that shock hadn't been earthshattering enough, Joey came rushing in with a very breathless Phoebe in tow, and hurriedly ushered her into the wedding chamber.

"Come on Pheebs! Hurry! Hurry! Hurry! Hurry!"

"Okay! Okay! Okay!"

Chandler did a double take, feeling as if the floor was tilting under his feet. This couldn't be real. Joey and Phoebe? JOEY AND PHOEBE TOO?

"Oh my God! Is **everybody** getting married?!"

Except that as soon as they had gotten into the wedding chamber, Phoebe and Joey came running out again and hurried towards the exit, only to come up short when the attendant reprimanded them sternly from her desk.

"No running in the chapel!"

Phoebe drew herself up indignantly. "Hey! Don't you give me any of your—," but then she finally noticed Monica and Chandler and dismissed the fuming attendant immediately. "Hey!"

Now Joey joined them and Monica voiced the question that Chandler hadn't dared ask so far.

"What are you guys doing here?"

"Ross and Rachel left us a message saying they were getting married!" Joey told them grinning. "Isn't that why you guys are here?"

Chandler suddenly found that he could breathe again. "Yes! Well, that - yes."

"Why else would we be here?" Monica tittered nervously, but fortunately the others didn't seem to notice, though Chandler didn't much like Phoebe's frowning look.

"Well! What happened?! Did we miss it?"

" **We** actually missed it." Chandler said quickly and Phoebe savagely turned to the enraged attendant again. "Well, maybe you wouldn't have had if you could **run in the chapel**!"

"I can't believe Ross and Rachel got married." Monica still seemed in total shock and Joey agreed.

"I know! I didn't even know they were dating again."

If you could call it dating when you were too drunk to even stay together after the ceremony. "Well, I don't think they are as much dating as they are two bottles of vodka walking around in human form."

"This is insane!" Monica lamented, wringing her hands. But Phoebe shrugged dismissively.

"What's the big deal, y'know? It's not like it's a real marriage."

Huh? That took them aback, even coming from Phoebe.

"What?!"

"Yeah, if you get married in Vegas, you're only married in Vegas." She actually sounded so convincing that Chandler found himself hoping she was right. Fortunately Monica had better sense.

"What are you talking about? If you get married in Vegas you're married everywhere."

"Really?!" And was Phoebe actually shocked by this?

"Yeah!"

"Oh my God!—" For a short moment Phoebe seemed to freeze, lost in thought. Then shaking it off she turned and headed for the exit, leaving them all to stare at each other nonplussed. "Eh! Well…"

Monica recovered first of course and ran after her to hold her back.

"Phoebe! Did – did you - ?"

"What? Get married in Vegas? I don't know. Maybe."

"You don't know?"

"Does it count when Elvis does it?"

"Huh?"

"Well, he looked exactly like him!"

To Chandler's intense relief a harried looking young chapel attendant chose this moment to put his head through the doors to the wedding chamber and smile at them inquiringly.

"Hello. Who's next please?"

.

Only after they'd finally managed to extricate themselves from Joey and Phoebe, Chandler realized that the hardest part was yet to come and had to be faced whether he wanted it or not. What was especially maddening about it all was that he had absolutely no idea what to do now.

It all had seemed so wonderfully clear and simple to him earlier. And he'd felt so good about it too, just as if he was doing the right thing, with no doubt in his mind whatsoever. They'd been so happy too, deliriously, blissfully happy. All the time, right until the moment they'd entered the chapel to get married. Then Ross and Rachel had popped out and everything had changed in the blink of an eye, turned upside down.

And now what?

He had offered Monica to marry her and she had accepted. If he backed out now she would be terribly crushed. Also he wasn't quite sure if he wanted to back out, abandon the idea altogether. Part of him still wanted to do it, prove to her that he loved her so much he was willing to forego all his fears and anxieties, his doubts and suspicions, and offer himself to her freely and wholly. And the other part of him agreed with all that in general, except that it really would like to have some more –

"Time" he said aloud, jerking himself out of his thoughts so suddenly that it took him a moment to get his bearings. Then he realized that they had somehow managed to retrace their steps and arrived at the hotel lobby again. And now Monica was staring at him quizzically, and he hurriedly pulled himself together.

"Um – yeah, time. It's gotten really late. Do you think it's too late to go back to the chapel?"

Monica pursed her mouth a little, avoiding his gaze.

"I – I don't know. I mean, we don't have to get married today, do we? That license, that's valid for a whole year, isn't it?"

"Yes!" he agreed, wincing at the relief in his voice. "There's absolutely no rush. We can totally do it tomorrow."

"Yes! I like that! That way we can prepare – and get some rest …"

"Right. Rest. That's what we need. A time-out!"

Her eyebrows rose. "A time-out? For what?"

"For our anniversary," he said softly. "That's still on, isn't it?"

"Oh my god! You're right! We totally forgot!"

"Forgot what?"

"Our bath!"

.

He'd never been a big fan of bubble-baths, but Chandler had to admit that a bath à deux, complete with candles, scented bath oils and last but not least champagne ordered and swiftly delivered via the room-service had its merits. Though all of that wouldn't have held any real appeal for him if the whole deal hadn't included Monica. Naked, wet, steaming hot Monica sitting opposite him in the warm scented water, her eyes shining with joy, and the foamy bubbles sliding down her glistening skin. Just watching the way her nipples hardened each time she raised herself a little to take a sip from her champagne flute, smacking her lips suggestively as she ran the tip of her tongue over them afterwards was enough make his blood boil under his own skin.

"Remember our first bath? You know, after London?"

Chandler groaned. "The one where Joey walked in on us?"

"Yeah … but wasn't it great?"

"Well, but what if he did it again?"

"Joey? Why should he?"

"Or Phoebe. Um, you know, I think I'd better make sure."

Monica put up a token protest, but stretched out in the tub luxuriously after he'd vacated it, closing her eyes as she rested her head on the support at her end. Chandler quickly dried himself and put on one of the complimentary bathrobes, then he went, and, among other things, double-checked if the Do-Not-Disturb sign was securely hanging from the doorknob.

When he returned to the bathroom Monica languidly opened her eyes and slowly got up, letting Chandler wrap a big towel around her as she stepped out of the bath and put her arms around his neck. Instead of toweling her dry he contented himself with a few rubs down her back, then abruptly tightened his arms around her rump and lifted her up.

"Chandler! I'm still wet!"

"All the better …!"

"Oh, you –," and then she laughed and wrapped her legs around his waist as he carried her to the bedroom. When they came through the doors she turned her head and then squealed with surprise at the candles on the nightstands whose warm shimmering flames now cast the only light in the room. Chandler tried not to puff too hard as he finally came to the foot of the bed and knelt on it to lay her down on it, towel and all. He wanted to draw away a bit to take off his bathrobe, but instead of letting him go Monica only tightened her grip on him and drew him down to kiss him, her legs urgently pressing against his hips. Then he found himself already sliding into her as if drawn and sucked inside, the feel of her hot and slippery wetness making him groan and shout with pleasure. He went slow at first, drawing out every thrust as long as he could and Monica went along, going soft and pliable under him as he pressed down on her. Then something, maybe the way she moaned and tightened around him, her hands clenching in the fabric of the bathrobe, got him to speed up and his thrusts became harder and more urgent as they kept at it, faster and faster under the bathrobe that Monica clawed at and bunched up in her hands while he tore at the bedclothes trying to get even deeper inside her, both panting and moaning loudly with it. As she neared her climax Monica desperately started to buck and heave up until they were both sitting up, holding on to each other for dear life in the final throes. When they were both done at last Chandler let himself fall back with a deep heartfelt sigh, gathering Monica to him until she was lying across his chest and holding her close. She snuggled against him with a soft sigh and pressed her face against his neck where it joined the shoulder. He was quite sure that it wouldn't last much longer before she would be up and about again, but to his surprise he felt her relax and go still in his arms almost at once, her breath slowly evening out until she was fast asleep.

.

.

.

A/N: First of all, a big thank you to Fictionwriter91 for her kind donation of synonyms for getting married when my poor mushy brain couldn't think of any more!

Aaaaaaannnd – done! Yes, as incredible as it may seem, but it's true: with this chapter my write-up of the Mondler story arc of the fifth season is now complete. No, not "storywise" – there are at least two more chapters to go before I can tie this one off and start the next one – but rather "canonwise". I have actually covered the Mondler part of an entire season by now. And I must admit, there were times when I wasn't sure I would ever get this far, and without skipping an episode or two. Of course that doesn't mean I'll stop now or even slow down (even more so than so far …), never fear, but it really and truly makes me happy that I've managed to arrive at this milestone. And I hope it makes you happy too. Thank you again for joining me in this great ride and happy Easter to you all!


	20. Who got married?

When Monica woke up, it felt to her as if someone had switched her on – just like that, her eyes snapped open and she was awake, without any drowsiness or disorientation. She was lying in the king-size bed of their hotel suite in Las Vegas, with Chandler beside her fast asleep (and snoring very lightly, almost inaudibly, but still snoring), it was only just getting light outside, and she hadn't gotten married.

She was still single. And feeling almost absurdly relieved about it.

What on earth had they been thinking, getting married like this, in secret, on a moment's notice, without families and friends, best man and bridesmaids, wedding dress and reception, without even a ring – but with the full import and significance of the ceremony that would weigh down on them from the moment they said I do onwards, binding them together regardless if they were ready or not. And they weren't. Not yet. They did have a good thing going for them, no doubt about it, but it was way too soon for this. Even if they would have done it Las Vegas style.

Like Ross and Rachel. Monica pressed her hand against her mouth just in time to suppress her whimper. Oh god, her idiot brother and her foolish friend had actually gone and gotten married. Married! She suddenly realized too that she hadn't even seen them here in Vegas yet. She'd been too busy winning at Craps when they'd arrived. And after listening to Chandler's and later Joey's and Phoebe's accounts of what that lunatic couple had been up to she was quite glad she hadn't witnessed all that herself. Seriously, embarrassing each other in public, drawing on each other's faces, getting blind drunk and not stopping at getting married? In the very same chapel too that Chandler and her had almost done it - would have too, if the crazy couple hadn't beaten them to it. There for the grace of Ross and Rachel … It didn't bear thinking really.

But really, after Chandler and she had gotten together again and he had actually proposed marriage everything else had become quite unimportant anyway, hadn't counted anymore. And why on earth not? She wasn't her brother's keeper, no matter what her mother might have to say about that. They were here to enjoy their vacation and celebrate their anniversary. And she would not let that spoil by whatever crazy antics her brother and her best friend had been up to. It really, really, really wasn't her problem. Monica suspected that her mother would contest her on this, but maybe – maybe – she would never know. She at least would not tell her if she could help it. She'd rather not even think about it anymore if she could help it.

Just like she would rather not think about almost getting married last night. What if Chandler still wanted to go through with it? It had been his idea after all and he'd seemed so happy about it too yesterday, so excited and enthusiastic too. If she told him now that she didn't want it anymore, he'd be terribly let down. And probably suspect that she didn't love him as much as she claimed she did. Which was really crazy. She'd do anything for him. Even marry him in Las Vegas, if he really wanted her to. Still wanted her to.

But last night he'd also suggested a time-out. To celebrate their anniversary. Shelve the getting married thing for the time being so they could concentrate on what they had come to Las Vegas for in the first place, until they could deal with it at leisure, when the time was right.

And they had celebrated. Monica smiled and closed her eyes again, nestling luxuriously against the smooth sheets. They had taken that wonderful bath and drunk champagne with it and afterwards he had gone and carried her to the bed, still wrapped in the towel –

Towel? Monica abruptly sat up, her eyes snapping open again. Oh no, he'd practically snatched her out of the bath, with the tub still filled, and the light on, and the glasses and candles still there and – - She had already jumped out of the bed when she realized that she was still stark naked. There was no towel however anywhere on or near the bed. However, there was the complimentary bathrobe Chandler had put on last night, neatly hung over the back of a chair and she put it on before walking to the bathroom. She'd expected the worst, but somehow suspected too that she would be surprised, and as she stood in the door of the bathroom and turned on the light (which had been turned off after all) she was indeed.

True, the status of bathroom didn't quite come up to her standards, but it was much, much better than she'd feared. Especially considering that they were in a hotel which provided a service for what she was used to do herself (and usually couldn't help doing too). But still, it was far more than she'd expected. The water had been let out of the tub, there were no visible remnants of foam or soap in it, all the glasses had been emptied and put back on the tray with the bottle, the towels, including the one she'd been wrapped in neatly hung up …

The relief was almost too much for her. Sighing, she turned off the light and padded back to the bed, then stopped before getting in again to look at her still sleeping boyfriend. Her boyfriend of one year. Her almost husband. Now she almost wished she had married him after all.

She took off the robe and got back into bed as careful as possible in order not to wake him up, pulling the covers up and turning on her side facing him. Chandler's breathing didn't change for some more minutes, then it seemed to speed up a little and she saw his eyes moving rapidly under the lids. And shortly after he gave a little snort and opened his eyes. At first he looked at her blankly until recognition dawned and he returned her smile.

And she just couldn't resist. "Hey, hubby …!"

For a fleeting moment his smile froze and his gaze flickered. Then he grinned.

"Hey, wifey! Got breakfast ready yet?" His grin broadened even more at her outraged expression and he put his arm over her to cup her head for a placatory kiss.

"You know, it's funny, I was sure I would dream about getting married to you after all, but I didn't."

"So what did you dream about?"

He frowned, considering. "I don't know – something with my father … ugh, right, my father in a white wedding dress, getting married to Elvis. Or Bing Crosby."

"Oh god. I totally forgot your father. Is he here somewhere?"

"No, he's on vacation. Thank god for small favors."

"Right, so you said." His expression decided her to not press the point and she fumbled for another topic instead. "Um, I saw that you straightened the bathroom."

His eyes widened in mock panic. "You've checked already? Did I miss anything?"

"No! You did great! It's so sweet! You needn't have really. We're on vacation!"

His smile turned tender again. "I just didn't want to wake up to you cleaning the bathroom. Especially when there're so much better things to wake up to." His hand strayed from the back of her head down her neck to her shoulder, arriving at and cupping her breast. They pulled closer and kissed, gently first and gathering steam as they went. As she hooked her leg across his middle she noticed the morning wood he had going and it sent a warm shiver from her breasts down to her lower belly. When she pressed closer to him he turned on his back and pulled her over him, holding her up so he could kiss and suck at her breasts. She straddled him, supporting herself on her elbows on both sides of his head and, undulating her hips, started to rub against him, pressing her labia against his erection and stimulating her clitoris until she couldn't bear it any longer and raised herself to take him inside. Most of the times when she was on top they would take it very slow, gently straining against each other with long drawn out movements, except when she was feeling too energetic and impatient. Like now, when she started to pick up speed right away, somehow needing to be done quick and dirty. Chandler complied by letting her take charge and providing just enough upward momentum to his thrusts to enable her to get to finish in almost record time. When she slumped over him, panting with the strain, he kept on thrusting slowly, his eyes screwed shut with concentration, digging his fingers into her hips and thighs until he too hit his release and relaxed beneath her. Sighing she got off him and lay on her back close to him, their hands finding each other as if by themselves.

For a short while they were silent, their breaths slowly evening out again during the recuperation phase. Then he abruptly turned on his side.

"Um … about that time-out? How long do you think –"

"- it should last?"

"Yeah. I mean, if you want we could end it now, but –"

"No!" she said, almost too quickly. "Not now. Right now I want a shower and breakfast … and find out what else Ross and Rachel have been up to."

"Oh. Right, them. I still can't believe they did get married."

"Yeah, me neither. I hope they made it back to their rooms safe. And will be down for breakfast."

"Maybe they got the honeymoon suite?"

"No, Ross' too stingy for that, even blind drunk."

"True. So after breakfast then?"

"Mmh. Actually I had plans for today. I got tickets for a visit of the Hoover Dam, remember?"

Chandler grinned widely, looking almost as much relieved as she felt. "Perfect! Our non-honeymoon!"

.

They found Phoebe and Joey in the breakfast buffet room at a table that seated six so they could join them. After they'd heyd each other Chandler asked quite casually:

"So, has anyone talked to Dr. and Mrs. Geller yet?"

"Um-hmm, yeah. They left me a message; they should be here any minute." Phoebe replied rather absentmindedly and in spite of everything Monica felt relieved. At least there wouldn't be any need now to send out search parties for the happy couple, or bail them out of a drunk tank. Chandler drew out a chair for her next to Joey who was suddenly getting restive.

"Where is the waitress?! I'm starving!"

There was a short pause until Chandler took it on himself to point out the obvious to his roommate. "It's a buffet, man."

Joey nearly flew out of his chair to head straight for the buffet table. "Oh, here's where I win all my money back!"

When Chandler opted to follow him instead of sitting next to her she didn't know what to make of it. Was he going to tell Joey? She watched him join his friend at the huge vat of scrambled eggs and turned back only to find Phoebe's cool appraising glance on her. Damn, why couldn't she have picked another seat? Knowing Phoebe she was going to draw everything there was to tell out of her and then some. Very well, maybe in this case it would be better to meet her head on and thus retain at least a smidgen of control over what she spilled. So she moved to Joey's vacated chair and lowered her voice.

"Yes, it's true, Chandler and I wanted to do it too last night. Get married I mean."

And of course Phoebe didn't look the least surprised. Just a little rising of the eyebrows, a little pursing of the mouth, that was all. Damn, she'd thought it would have deserved at least a dropped jaw or widening of the eyes. Or both. But Phoebe seemed curiously detached today. Monica wondered if she was drunk or at least tipsy. Phoebe usually only got this way when she was either in her cups or in love. Had she met someone here?

"Oh? And why didn't you?" When Phoebe casually took a sip of what Monica had thought was plain orange juice, her first suspicion was confirmed.

"Because Ross and Rachel beat us to it and then – I don't know, when I saw them the whole idea seemed so crazy. They showed us how crazy it was and then I just didn't want to do it anymore."

"Alright. So you didn't get married. What's the big deal?"

"But it was Chandler's idea! And it worked out so great. We were all set, except when we got to the chapel Ross and Rachel were already there." Suddenly she remembered the marriage license bureau. "Oh man, I should have known! The guy at the place where we got the marriage license said something about a funny coincidence – so that was it!"

Phoebe frowned. "License? What license?"

"The marriage license! The license you need to get married."

"Ah." The frown vanished at once and gave way to Phoebe's habitual serene expression. "Then I didn't get married in Vegas after all. I'd remember if I'd had a license!"

Monica's curiosity was piqued. "Who did you get married to?"

"Oh, just some guy. He'd won three times in a row at roulette and proposed to me so his luck wouldn't run out. Or to sleep with me. Or both. It was fun." Phoebe shrugged and took another sip of her Mimosa and Monica decided to get back to her problem before the guys returned. By the sounds of it Chandler had already told Joey and was getting congratulated and told off at the same time.

"How do I tell Chandler that it's too soon? It's gonna break his heart, he's gonna think that I don't love him anymore!"

Phoebe shrugged dismissively. "Well you don't."

"Yes I do!" She almost shouted it at her friend, well aware that it was completely futile.

"Good! Good! I was just testing you." Phoebe smiled at her pleasantly, seemingly quite satisfied with herself. Yes, definitely drunk. It was just as well that the guys got back to the table then to save her the trouble of finding an adequate retort. And stop her from jumping at her friend to throttle her. Monica smiled brilliantly at Chandler, hoping her nervousness wouldn't show too much.

"Oh hi! Hi! You know, we were just talking about bacon."

"No, we were talking about tennis." Phoebe corrected her. "Tennis is more believable."

Chandler narrowed his eyes at this and Monica was debating with herself if she should just point out that Phoebe was drunk (as if that changed anything) when they were all distracted by the newly-wed couple themselves strolling into the room and heading towards their table. Ross and Rachel, looking quite fresh and bushy-tailed, without any remnants of their drunken spree of last night showing. They'd even managed to scrub off the ballpoint pen drawings off their faces. Looking quite happy they took their places and helped themselves to coffee, making appreciative noises while the others just stared at them in expectant silence. Monica would have bet her winnings of last night that they'd woken up with fearful hangovers, but from their looks no one not in the know could have suspected anything amiss.

At last Ross caught on. "What?"

"Are we gonna talk about what you guys did last night? Or…" Chandler asked oh so carefully.

"I don't know." How on earth did Rachel manage to sound so oblivious? "What do you mean last night? Nothing, nothing uh, happened last night."

"Yeah!" Ross confirmed. Could that still be only denial or had he really forgotten?

"Uh-huh! Ross invited us all to watch." Phoebe remarked matter-of-factly. Enraged Rachel turned to Ross while he looked all wounded and uncomprehending.

"What is the matter with you?!"

Monica couldn't stand it anymore. "Rach! We weren't gonna miss our friends getting married!"

Rachel gasped in honest surprise. "Huh? Who got married?!"

This time there was a longer pause until Chandler replied, even more carefully in return, "You did...?!"

Ross shook his head, still confused and a bit amused too.

"What?! Hello! We didn't get married..!"

"No, we didn't get married! That's ridiculous!"

But then they turned to look at each other for confirmation and somehow this made the truth dawn on them undeniably. Finally.

"We-we-we—I remember being in a chapel…" Ross stammered, covering his eyes.

"Oh my God ..!" Rachel moaned.

"I—They would not let us get married when we were that drunk!"

"Nooo!" Rachel still tried to stick to denial.

"Of course they let you get married when you're drunk! Most people who get married in Vegas **are** drunk!" Joey scoffed, and "Hell, I'm drunk right now!" Phoebe chimed in. When they all turned to stare at her she glared. "What? I can't have a mimosa with breakfast?! I'm on vacation!"

Monica dismissed her and turned back to the not so happy couple.

"What are you guys gonna do?

"Well, I guess we just find a divorce lawyer?" Rachel suggested weakly.

"Well, I think - I **think** , Ross already has one." Chandler quipped, making Ross wince, and Monica just couldn't resist.

"Yeah! Yeah! That guy's **finally** gonna be able to put in that pool!"

It just felt so good to laugh about it and release the tension. Ross of course promptly went in a huff.

"Now, this one's free, right?" Chandler was on a roll now. "Because you paid for the first two, so the third one's free!"

Ross finally got hold of himself again. "Laugh it up, but the joke's on you. Because we don't need to get divorced, okay? We we're just gonna get an annulment."

"An annulment?" Joey shook his head disapprovingly. "Ross! I don't think surgery's the answer here."

While they all still wondered how to react to that, Phoebe suddenly tittered.

"Oh-oh, that's your thing!"

"What?"

"You're thing. You're thing. Y'know? You're the guy who gets divorced!" Phoebe almost bounced on her seat. Monica couldn't help agreeing with her, along with the others.

"Oh yeah!"

"No-no, that's-that's not my thing!" Ross spluttered. "I do **not** love getting divorced!"

"Yes you do! This is your third divorce!" Phoebe charged ahead notwithstanding, fully on her roll now and gathering steam. "You love divorce so much you're probably gonna marry it! Then it won't work out and you're gonna have to divorce it, divorcing guy." At last she'd run out and collected herself, avoiding their stares. "I'm so drunk ..!" she stated plaintively.

"Want to get married too?" Chandler asked dryly, but Phoebe just fluttered her eyelashes at him.

"Maybe …"

"Maybe if we went back to the chapel, they could, you know, cancel the whole thing …?" Rachel tried.

"They'll still be closed." Ross suddenly looked mulish and Monica suddenly knew somehow that nothing would ever get him to return to that place. She knew her brother, if anything he positively loathed confronting people who had seen him at his worst behavior. He would rather remain in denial, pretending that all the problems he couldn't face just ceased to exist if he ignored them long enough. Above all it made her feel tired. And anxious to get out of there and be alone with Chandler – to celebrate their anniversary if nothing else.

"Look at the time!" she exclaimed, getting up. "Chandler, we need to go if we want to catch that bus!" The way he jumped up eagerly, abandoning his breakfast, told her how much he wanted to escape himself.

"Where are you going?" Ross demanded to know and she had to bite back an acid reply.

"The Hoover Dam" she said instead and Ross' eyes lit up while Joey scoffed. Naturally.

"Aw, we'll come too!" Rachel gushed and Monica almost panicked.

"You sure that's the right location for your honeymoon?" Chandler asked acidly and Ross shot him a dirty look.

"Actually we need to catch our flight back to New York" he stated somewhat pompously and Monica heaved a sigh of relief. Right, the two of them were flying back today already. Thank god.

"We need to leave now too if we want to get back still this week." Phoebe frowned at Joey. "Um, by the way, where **did** you park my cab?!"


	21. A Definitive Sign, Part One

By the time they'd returned to Vegas and found themselves in the hotel lobby again, evening was falling already and Chandler realized that they'd come full circle in those 24 hours after his spontaneous and wonderfully crazy proposal. 24 hours which they had spent almost getting married, celebrating their anniversary, having great sex, sleeping like the dead, having more great sex, meeting up with Ross and Rachel, and, last but not least, going on a trip to the Hoover Dam. The latter had actually been very enjoyable – they'd even got a friendly Japanese tourist to take their picture on the fake state line the movie crew of 'Fools Rush In' had left on the street. But now they were right back at where they'd started. Back to square one, the casino of Caesar's and he still didn't know how to go on, or what to do.

Or for that matter, what Monica wanted to do. But no matter what, there was no way around it, they had to talk about it. It. The elephant in the room. The 'should they or shouldn't they.' If only he could read her better, could be sure of what she wanted. Did she still want to get married? Or was she in two minds about it too?

It made him feel quite uncomfortable. Her too, and cold on top of it apparently, since she kept hugging herself and rubbing her arms, probably wishing she still had her 'something borrowed, new and blue'. Though Chandler was glad that they'd brought it back to the shop already last night.

"You wanna play some Pai Gow?" he asked awkwardly.

"Maybe. But I - I kind of think we should talk about last night."

"That's a good idea," he said, feeling quite relieved in spite of his apprehension. "Because I wanna talk about last night too ... and I don't know what Pai Gow is."

"I see. So, what do **you** think we should do?"

"I don't know. But I - I know I love you!" Yes! That had been the right thing to say and he silently congratulated himself for the reassuring amendment when she returned his hug full-heartedly, almost sighing with relief.

"I know! I love you!"

He released her again and they walked on, through the casino which was slowly starting to fill up again. Chandler still felt as if he was walking on a tightrope, and without a safety net too.

"So where are we on that whole going back to the place where they have all the marriages thing?" he asked at length, and since it had worked so well, added an emphatic "I love you" for good measure. And breathed a little easier when it seemed to work again. Maybe there was hope yet of getting all this sorted out without hurting her or creating a fatal misunderstanding that would tear them apart again? He'd rather go through with dozens of marriages than risk that again.

"That's a good question." Monica pondered, then suddenly brightened. "Look umm, last night we let the dice decide. Maybe we should leave it up to fate again?!" Now her eyes sparkled. "I love you!"

My, she'd really caught up quickly on that one, and that idea of hers was simply brilliant. No way those odds of last night could be beaten again, and that spectacularly too. Even if it was the same craps table. Which seemed rather fitting too.

"Yes, we don't get married unless there's a sign! Okay, so say, uh, you roll another eight - then there's a **definite** sign that we should get married."

"All right, eight we get married, but two, three, four, five, six, seven, nine, ten, eleven, twelve - we don't get married!"

"Sounds great." He agreed happily and drew her to the craps table. Fortunately there were only a few players present and the croupier seemed quite happy to invite them into the game. "Coming in, we got a shooter! Money please."

Monica took the dice and got into position. "Ready?"

Then maybe it would be better if he rolled the dice this time? His luck had always been dismal, but you never knew in this place. "Ready!"

"Come on eight." Monica addressed the dice rather tersely.

"Yes, yes, eight!" Chandler debated with himself if he should cross his fingers or if that would be challenging fate too much. But then Monica had already rolled the dice and before they had even time to look the croupier sang out.

"Eight! Easy eight."

Monica looked even more stunned than he felt.

"Wow! I can't believe I actually rolled an eight ...!"

"That was **so** unlikely." Chandler agreed, clenching his teeth. Was there no avoiding this crazy magic? "Well, let's get married! I guess ...!"

He'd already resigned himself to their going through with it when Monica suddenly started up.

"Wait a minute. That wasn't a hard eight! Last night I rolled a hard eight!"

Brilliant. Just brilliant. Slowly it started to dawn on Chandler that Monica was on the same page as he after all – but could he be really sure?

"That's right! It was the wrong kind of eight, no wedding! Dammit!"

"I wanted it so bad!" Now she seemed to be overdoing it a little, as if putting on a show. But for whose sake? Only him? Or Vegas too? Slowly but surely Chandler was getting a notion that there was more involved than just their change of mind about a Vegas marriage. It seemed to him as if the city itself, feeling cheated out of a wedding, was taking over now, trying to nudge and guide them back on the path to marriage again, even pushing them if needed.

"Wanna go pack?" Monica asked at length, her voice suddenly quite small.

"Yeah." He agreed quickly and turned them around to head for the elevators, only to feel his doubts set in again after just a few steps. "We're doing the right thing, right?"

"Ohh, of course we are!" she reassured him. And did her voice sound a little strained? "We left it up to fate!" They had reached the elevators and Monica pushed the button for going up. "If we were supposed to get married there would be a clear-cut sign!"

She was right. They needed more than a lucky roll of the dice. A definite, unmistakable sign that couldn't be chalked up to chance - -

Then the elevator doors opened and there was a priest inside with an open bible in his hands, smiling at them benevolently as they faced him side-by-side holding hands. Chandler stood as if frozen to the spot, gaping at the cleric while he vaguely imagined hearing church music. Then Monica's audible gasp and the pain from her fingers crushing his hand brought him back to himself. Silently they stood aside to let the priest pass and then entered the elevator, avoiding each other's eyes.

"Do you think that was –"

"No!" he almost shouted it and then pulled himself together when she flinched. "You're Jewish, so it can't have been a sign for you." When her frown cleared again and she nodded, he heaved a sigh of relief. That was close, Vegas. Close, but no cigar.

Maybe if they both kept ignoring the signs, pretending they didn't see them, or tried to find reasonable explanations, they really wouldn't mean anything?

And maybe then the city would stop throwing those signs at them eventually? Hopefully?!

The elevator stopped at their floor and the doors opened again. A couple with a little girl in a white dress was waiting in the hallway and as soon as she caught sight of them, the little brat started to squeal excitedly and grab fistfuls of petals from a flower basket to throw them in their direction before her parents could stop her. As they dragged her into the elevator, apologizing as they went, Chandler caught the little girl wailing '- but dey are maa-awwied!' – just before the doors closed again, leaving them facing each other open-mouthed and shaken.

Nice try, Vegas.

At length Monica swallowed audibly. "Um, could that maybe have been … one?"

Chandler cleared his throat to gain some time. "A sign for what? Getting married or getting 'maaawwied'?"

"Huh." Was that relief on her face? Or disappointment? But when Monica just nodded thoughtfully and turned to head for their room without another word, carefully avoiding the petals on the floor as she went, he breathed a little easier again. Not that he thought that the immediate danger was past, but at least they'd already managed to dodge three shots that Vegas had taken at them. As he carefully closed the door behind them he just hoped that they would be safe in their room at least. Unless it had magically changed into a honeymoon suite during in their absence …?

But, no, it was still their old room. As he turned away from the door he found that Monica had already gone into the bedroom where she was packing her suitcase and his carryon that she had put on the bed.

"Um, honey, our flight's not until –"

"9.40, I know. I know!" She never even lost a beat.

"But –"

"Just humor me, okay? I'm packing your things too."

"Okay. No problem. Um, although might I point out that that's not my towel –"

"What? But it was in your bag, I only repacked it –"

"Oops. I guess I took it from my room then by mistake. It doesn't matter, we can leave it here." He dropped the towel on the floor and then put his arms around her from behind, nestling close and pressing his lips against her neck. "Mmmmh. Go on, don't mind me …"

She exhaled a little impatiently, but held still when he drew back her hair to kiss her neck and then continued packing much as before. Chandler let his hands roam down her sides, rubbing and stroking her hips and thighs and teasing at the thin gap of bare skin between her pants and the edge of her t-shirt with his fingertips. When she bent over to pick up a stray sock he fitted his abdomen against her rump, gently pressing against her buttocks. He heard her breath hitch at that and then she kept on supporting herself on her hands while slowly getting out of her heels and bending one leg after the other until she was kneeling on the bed, her rear still firmly wedged against his loins. Chandler found it quite tricky to get rid of his shoes without losing contact with her buttocks, but at last he managed and, gently nudging her forward, crawled on the bed after her and covered her from behind. Monica was already pushing her suitcase out of the way, screaming softly when he tugged down her pants and thong in one. She squirmed under him, rubbing her bare buttocks against the fabric of his pants where his erection was already urgently building up. Chandler straightened up briefly to tear out of his sweater and t-shirt and then pushed up her t-shirt to open her bra with one hand while the other took care of his pants and boxers. At last they were buck-naked and heated up, panting and moaning as they urgently but mindfully went through well-practiced foreplay moves until they were both ready and all but aching for each other. He straightened up again a bit to get the angle right while she raised herself from her knees just enough to enable him to push into her, then he was sliding into her, shuddering, his head swimming from lust and arousal. His first thrusts were more tentative and drawn out until they had settled into their positions and adjusted to each other, then he picked up speed, holding her close with one arm and supporting himself with the other on the bedpost while Monica clawed at the covers and pressed her calves and feet against his, her hot wet slippery tightness driving him crazy with desire. Just when he thought he wouldn't be able to hold in his orgasm any longer he felt her shudder and stiffen under him, and then she cried out wildly. After he'd spent himself in her he slumped, barely holding up until they had let each other go and she turned around to embrace him and draw him down over her. For a long moment he relaxed on her, knowing full well that she loved to feel him so close, even if it appeared that he was almost crushing her, then he shifted to settle down beside her, still holding her close as their breath rates slowed again.

"Ummmm…. this is so nice …"

"Better than packing? Wow."

She giggled. "Weeelll … just a bit. Ugh, what's that?"

"Oh. Just my bag. Hold on, I'll put it on the floor … oh shoot." When he tried to lift it by one of the handles, the bag upended, spilling its contents back on the bed. Monica sighed exasperatedly and sat up to help him. When he put the bag down again he noticed that the side pocket was unzipped and gaping open. There was something stuck in it, a slim longish package in white and gold wrapping paper and as soon as he saw it Chandler froze, his jaw coming unhinged.

"Oh my god, it's my – I don't believe this!"

"What?"

"My present! I brought it after all! I just forgot that I put it in the side pocket and –"

Monica's eyes had widened until he thought they'd fall out of their sockets. "What? You had it all along?"

He sat back on his heels as the implications suddenly struck. "Oh god. If only I'd remembered where I'd put it then – - oh god. Oh god, I'm so sorry..."

She frowned a little uncertainly. "For what? Oh you mean, we wouldn't have had that fight?"

"Well – yeah. I guess."

Monica considered this, still frowning, then she shook her head. "No. I think we would have had it anyway. It was bound to happen."

"You're sure?"

"Yes. Yes, I'm sure. So? Can I have it now? My present?"

"Oh! Oh, of course. Here. Happy anniversary, Monica."

Her expression softened and for a moment she looked close to tears. "Aw… thank you! Happy anniversary too!" Then her eyes lit up as she eyed the package eagerly for a long moment, visibly trying to hold herself back. Finally she laughed and ripped the wrapping paper off in one go, lifting the lid of the carton expectantly.

"Oh, what is – oh my god! Oh, it's so beautiful!"

"You like it?"

"I love it! Wait – oh wait, isn't that the same locket we saw at the jewelry store…?"

He grinned smugly. "Of course. When you said you liked it, I didn't want to look further."

She held up the silver locket by the thin chain, stroking it softly with a fingertip. "Oh wow. But it was really expen-"

"Open it."

"What?"

"Open it. Here, like this."

"Oh! That's – that's Big Ben! A photo of Big Ben!"

"Yeah." He grinned widely, feeling as if his cheeks were near splitting with it. "Or in other words, of London time."

Monica put a hand over her mouth, her eyes widening. "Oh my god!"

"That's why I was so upset on the plane when I couldn't find it. I thought we would spend our anniversary on London time, and then …"

"But we did! We're always on London time. Even when we're on Vegas time …"

"Ugh. I don't know about you, but I've got enough of Vegas time. I mean all those signs – it's getting a bit too much."

Almost as if to underline this someone chose this exact moment to knock heavily on the door in the living room and they both froze, staring at each other wide-eyed.

"What the hell - ?"

The knock was repeated and then Chandler heard whoever was outside calling out.

"Room service!"

"Room service? But we didn't order – did you order anything?"

"No!"

"Huh. Me neither. Must be a mix-up."

When the knocking grew even more insistent, Chandler sighed and looked around for his bathrobe, remembered that it was in the bathroom and got into his boxers and t-shirt instead. When he opened the door he found a waiter with a trolley in the hallway before it.

"Um, actually we didn't order – oh, is that champagne?"

The waiter smiled politely. "It's the newly-wed special of the house, sir."

"What? But we didn't get married!" Oh no, here we go again. Damn you Vegas …

Then Monica appeared beside him in her bathrobe. "But we didn't order champagne. Are you sure you got the right room?"

The waiter frowned, craning his head to check the room number and then his clip board. "Um, says here, Mr. and Mrs. Geller?!"

Chandler's jaw dropped. "Oh, but that's not – ouch!" He winced when Monica kicked his shin and then smiled demurely at the waiter.

"Oh yes! That's right! Thank you! What a great service! Isn't it, dear?"

Chandler suddenly pictured Ross' outrage at getting cheated out of his champagne and couldn't help laughing as the waiter deftly rolled the trolley through the door.

Okay, Vegas, you score. This time.


	22. A Definitive Sign, Part Two

_A/N: I don't usually dedicate chapters, but since today's a special occasion for our dear Fictionwriter91, I'll make an exception and hereby dedicate this chapter to her. Have a great anniversary and many happy returns!_

 _._

 _And no, it's not the final chapter yet. I'm not even sure if it's the last but one. But I'm getting there, never fear._

.

.

.

Monica had never really believed in praying for something. Or wishing upon something and expecting to get her wish granted, just like that, without payment or return service of any kind. Praying was for weaklings and wishing for romantics. But now she was seriously considering prayer. Praying or wishing or anything else, if only to get those damn signs to stop already.

At first it had been almost funny, aside from weirding them out that was. Throwing another eight (though not a hard eight!), finding themselves standing before the priest hand-in-hand, having that little girl throwing petals at them, and then, as if all that wasn't enough already, get that newly-wed special delivered to their room when it should really have gone to Ross and Rachel. It had been great of course, a really nice conclusion to their anniversary, but nevertheless left her hoping (and wishing and praying even) that it would really turn out to be the last of those strange and persistent signs. The final one.

But no such luck.

Because when they'd left the hotel for the airport, the cab they got in was still trailing a couple of tin cans and when the cabbie opened the trunk to put their luggage in, a big pink balloon with 'Just Married' written on it had popped out. At the ticket counter at the airport she'd found herself absentmindedly handing over the marriage license instead of the tickets and the agent had kept calling them 'Mr. and Mrs. Geller'. It cost her almost her last nerve not to scream. The only thing that kept her going was her hope that these signs would stop once they'd left Vegas for good. Surely they wouldn't follow them to New York? That marriage idea had been such a Vegas thing, something that would never at any time have occurred to them in New York, and surely it wouldn't mean anything there? It just couldn't. It was over and done with. They hadn't actually said it, but she knew that Chandler had abandoned the idea too and was just as unnerved by the persistent signs as she was. They couldn't get married now, not anymore. The moment had definitively passed, no matter how many more signs urging them to reconsider would be thrown at them still.

Also, the more she thought about it, the more certain she became that getting married would be dead wrong. Not as such, only right now, at this stage of their relationship. Simply and plainly wrong, and nothing and nobody could convince her otherwise. Not even all those weird signs. Especially not these sighs.

Funny enough there had been no signs during their flight or after their arrival in New York. Nothing that could be remotely associated with weddings or marriage, nada, zilch, zero. But because she had constantly been on the lookout for them, the strain was beginning to tell on her. That horrible brat on the plane had only been the tip of the iceberg. By the time their New York cab (minus tin cans and balloons fortunately) had finally decanted them in front of their building on Bedfort street, she felt close to a nervous breakdown. Especially with the pain from her foot now kicking in again as the painkiller wore off just as she was negotiating the stairs to the fifth floor on Chandler's arm. His patient and yet somehow disapproving endurance of her complaints was no great help either.

At last they made it to #20's door. By now she was hobbling in earnest and to her horror realizing that she was simply unable to go on, even if it was only five yards or so.

"That kid really kicked me hard on the plane." She hated whining, but if it got her into the flat and on her sofa or at least a chair without having to walk?

"Well, you did pull his hair." Chandler pointed out curtly, and rather superfluously too.

"He took my snack!" Snatched it rather AND stuck out his tongue at her too.

"I'm not getting into this again!" he spat and she realized that his nerves had to be quite frayed too.

"Okay! Oh God, you know what? It's really bad." That did it. Chandler immediately changed into solicitous husb- argh, boyfriend mode, like she'd known he would, but had been too proud to try for until she really had no other options left.

"Well, I told you not to walk." He put down their luggage and held out his arms to pick her up. "Here. There. Okay." Oh, the relief. She held on to his shoulders while he opened the door and then carried her across the threshold, for all the world like a - -

Oh no. Oh god no. They both realized it at the same time and she knew it was too late even as he frantically backpedaled and let her go as soon as he'd backed out of the apartment again, leaving her hanging on his neck.

"This doesn't mean anything, does it?" Monica felt close to tears.

"No!" At least he made it sound very emphatic. Almost believable in fact. Almost.

"Okay."

When she refused to let go he slowly went forward again, almost as if walking on eggs and keeping his hands carefully away from her too while she grimly clung to him, her knees bent so her feet wouldn't touch the ground. In the kitchen she tried to let go and stand and winced when the pain in her foot started up once more with a vengeance. Chandler sighed in frustration and then suddenly brightened.

"Oh, what if I gave you piggy backs?"

"What?" But he already turned his back to her, holding out his hands behind his butt. She had to hitch up her long skirt almost to her waist before he could get hold of her knees and carry her into the apartment while she hung on to his shoulders, hoping it wouldn't strain his back too much. But he even managed to tote her as far as the couch before letting her down. After he'd returned to the hallway again to retrieve their luggage, he shut the door and then flopped down beside her with a deep heartfelt sigh.

"Oh thanks, you're a genius! I knew I mar—almost married you for a reason!" Screwed that up again, but Chandler hardly twitched, only lay back with his eyes closed. While she massaged her foot, Monica wrecked her brain for something that would distract them from worrying about the signs, and the undeniable fact that they were still haunted by them, even here, back in New York.

Wait, back in New York …? "Um … what time is it?"

Chandler glanced at his watch and wearily closed his eyes again. "Quarter to four. Why?"

"Really? Oh, wasn't it around four too when we came back here from London? Exactly one year ago today?"

Chandler started up. "You're right! It was! Oh my god …!"

"Yeah. Remember Phoebe telling us off?"

"Vividly. I was so scared she knew about us already."

"And how we thought we couldn't do it here –"

"Because of the rule. That Not-in-New-York-Rule." Now he put his arms around her and she pressed against him, almost giddy with joy and relief. There, let the signs try to barge in on that.

"If you hadn't come back with that line of still being on London Time …" His grin lit up his whole face at that and his arms tightened around her.

"If that hadn't counted for you … Did we first do it here on the sofa or in your bedroom?"

"Um … we got pretty far here. I think I was like this – here, and you –"

"I think at that point I was busy strangling myself on my jacket."

"Oh god, yes! You got caught in the sleeves, I thought you'd tear it to pieces -!"

"Yeah. And then my shoe fell on the table and I thought you'd send me away again."

Her eyes softened. "No, I couldn't have. Not then. Anyway, I was much too horny to care."

"Really?"

"Yes!"

"Well, so was I – mmmh, mmm …" As their lips pressed together she desperately clutched at his shoulders, her fingers digging into the fabric of his shirt over his back. A blue shirt, like the one he had worn on that day one year ago, or maybe even the very one, she wasn't quite sure. And now she wished she hadn't decided on that stupid long skirt this morning, but from the looks of it she wasn't going to wear it for very much longer. Chandler had already managed to loosen it enough to push one hand down the small of her back to her buttocks while the other was crawling up her side towards her armpit and the strap of her bra. Trying to get closer to him she all but crawled on his lap, hooking her knee over his thigh, the pain in her foot quite forgotten - -

"Hey! You're back! Hi-i-i- - what are you doing- nooo! I don't believe this!"

Monica blinked at Rachel who was standing over them, her hands thrown up in disgust.

"Oh, hi Rach. Shouldn't you be at work?"

"I mean, really, couldn't you for ONCE have waited - -?"

"So, I take it you're not enjoying your nuptials?" Chandler piped up. Rachel narrowed her eyes at them and exhaled disgustedly, her shoulders slumping.

"Ugh! No! Actually I'm glad you're back. Maybe you can talk some sense into Ross." Rachel dropped on the sofa as Chandler hurriedly made room for her. "And maybe you'll get through that damn thick skull!"

"Why, what happened?!"

"Aw, your first fight as a married couple?"

"He wants us to stay married!" Rachel wailed.

"What?! Ouch …" Great, now the pain was back. Monica closed her eyes and leaned back, trying not to moan and failing miserably.

"Ross wants to stay married to you? Why?" Chandler sounded honestly puzzled while it made all kinds of sense to Monica. If her foot hadn't hurt so much right now – and if Rachel hadn't interrupted them so rudely on the couch in the first place – she might have let Rachel persuade her to help. But now she was simply too tired.

"He said he can't have three failed marriages. He can't be that guy. He – "

"Okay, that's enough!" She only realized she was almost yelling when Rachel stared at her open mouthed, and relented a little. "We get it, Rachel, okay? But we just got here, and we're still on our anniversary, and also I've hurt my foot. I'm sorry, but you're on your own here. You married Ross, you have to talk him out of it." She gingerly got up from the sofa and winced when the pain from her foot made itself felt again. "I really need to lie down. Chandler?"

"Yes!" He hurriedly got to his feet to prop her up while she leaned against him gratefully. When they'd got to her bedroom door, she turned to look at Rachel again who was watching them sullenly from the couch.

"Alright. Rach? If Ross doesn't change his mind, I'll talk to him. Tomorrow. Okay?" Seeing Rachel's expression brightening immediately, she couldn't resist. "And maybe while you wait for him, you could start on those dishes already?"

As she shut the door rather abruptly, sighing with resignation, she caught Chandler looking at her quizzically, trying hard not to grin. For a moment she wavered and then grinned back and drew him closer, wrapping her arms around his neck again. He tightened his grip on her and then, lifting her with his hands under her buttocks, carried her to the bed and let her down on it.

"Do you need an icepack for your foot?"

"No, it's okay. I just wanted to get away from Rachel. Mmmh." She let herself sink backwards on the bed, spreading her arms wide and sighing deeply. Dimly she sensed Chandler crouching before the bed, then felt his hands on her as he gently took off her slippers and tugged off her skirt.

"Um. Mmmh. Aw, I'm sorry that it's not like the way it went down a year ago –"

"Sh. I know. I didn't want to reenact all of it anyway."

She twitched when he took hold of her bad foot and relaxed again when he cupped it carefully and gently placed his lips on her ankle. "Not? But –"

"Because it was really special. A onetime thing. I want to remember it that way, not try and repeat it." She actually felt him grin against her skin as he slowly kissed his way up her leg. "Also Rachel wasn't around then, so –"

"Right. Oh god, I really wish those two were still stuck in Vegas."

"Me too. Instead those two are here and Phoebe and Joey are still gone." Suddenly he straightened, supporting himself on the edge of the bed. "Um, here's an idea – why don't we spend the night at my place?"

She had already opened her mouth to refuse and then hesitated, considering. "What about the birds?"

"Joey's sister's taking care of them. Come on, we'll have the whole place to ourselves!" When she still wavered he put on his wounded puppy look. "I'll carry you!"

Then it occurred to her that Rachel would probably jump on her the minute she left the bedroom again to talk her ear off about Ross and his stubbornness, and that she absolutely wasn't looking forward to finding out that Rachel hadn't cleaned the bathroom. Or the dishes. And last but not least she was quite sure she didn't want to meet her brother again so soon, let alone witness his idiot discussion with Rachel about the merits of staying married. Anything but that, even if it meant dealing with the guys' bathroom. And their refrigerator.

Plus, maybe at Chandler's place they'd have a better chance to escape those persistent signs?!

"Okay," she sighed and grinned at Chandler's obvious surprise. "Yeah, that's actually a great idea. Let's do that! But – later." She smiled conspiratorially. "After."

Chandler's grin widened. "That's my wi- my almost wife!" And deftly avoiding her punch he lowered his head again to resume his kissing and nibbling at her knees and thighs, slowly working his way up to her lap and nibbling at the strap of her thong, trying to tease it down with his teeth while she lay back again, resting her lower legs and feet on his shoulders. Before long he was helping her out of her t-shirt and loosening her bra, and she felt her nipples contract and harden to two little hot sensitive balls as he slowly rubbed and squeezed them, his lips and tongue still busy under her thong that he'd finally managed to tug off her hips and over one knee until it was hanging from one ankle. She held back as long as she could, savoring the sensations rolling over her like long shallow vibrating waves, and rubbing her feet up and down his back to distract herself, but found her resistance melting away all too soon, closing her thighs around his head between them and then opening them again invitingly, raising her knees and grabbing him by the hair to try and pull him towards her, over her, inside her. He barely had time to yank down his jeans and boxers as he got to his feet and bent over her to meet her mouth with his and push into her at the same time. For a fleeting moment she imagined Rachel's resigned expression as the noise from their lovemaking reached her ears and couldn't help laughing in pure glee.

There. Let the signs try and spoil that for them.

.

.

But of course her hope that the signs would cease to happen was in vain. On the following afternoon they surprised Joey in her kitchen as he was up on a ladder searching her cupboards for candy or possibly just jam. When the ladder inevitably started to wobble, he knocked over one of her jars which resulted in a brief but effective shower of – rice. Of course it had to be rice. Lots of rice, over both of them too.

It didn't help matters much that after one look at her face Joey immediately beat a retreat without even so much as a murmur. The damage was done and no shouting or clenching her fists or even snapping at Chandler to unpack his things already so they could do laundry could make any difference.

.

Until the following afternoon when next sign came, Monica had almost resigned herself to the fact that they would have to live with at least one of those stupid signs per day. Even with all those miles between them and A Little White Chapel und all the time that had passed. And maybe one sign per day wasn't so bad. Maybe they would even grow less as more time passed, dwindle to one every two days or even once a week? They could live with that, couldn't they?

Except then Rachel was putting the finishing touch on a bouquet of flowers with Chandler standing close by and of course never noticing that she hadn't put nearly enough newspaper sheets on the table, and of course Monica had to be just in the exact right spot at the exact moment that Rachel pricked her finger on a thorn and reflexively tossed the bouquet over her shoulder so she could just as reflexively catch it and even allow herself a moment of satisfaction at her successful maneuver -

– until realization dawned and she wanted to kick herself, and never mind that her foot still hurt and she was barefoot. In her exasperation she almost yelled at Chandler again who'd tried to grab the flowers too, though not as quickly, and now just looked disgusted with himself. And resigned.

"Enough already!"

"Well you didn't have to catch them!" he retorted. Like it was her fault.

"Huh, that's funny." Rachel had recovered from the shock and of course didn't miss the obvoius implication. "You look like you're gonna be the – "

Monica almost jumped on her. "No, don't say it! Don't even think it!" But of course it was no use. Phoebe had spilled the beans still in Vegas already, and what did it matter it anyway? They just had to grin and bear it.

Rachel's smile grin faded again as she decided that retreating looked like the most attractive option.

"All right. Okay, Chandler, enjoy your handful..!"

As soon as Rachel had left, Monica let herself drop on the couch, suddenly feeling infinitely weary. Right then even one sign per month felt like too much. Way, way too much. Why couldn't they stop already? Why?

"All right, should we just, should we just get married? You know?" Chandler seemed almost as enervated as she felt. "I mean should we just do it? All the signs are telling us to do it."

At that the pent up frustration of the past days just burst out of her uncontrollably. "I'm sick of the signs! It's too fast, I'm happy the way things are!"

"Me too!" Oh the relief. At least they were on the same page. They didn't need to fight about this. And, more importantly, not hide their true feelings anymore. "I don't want things to change! Do you?"

"No!" He almost shouted it. Oh thank god. If he agreed with her on that, everything else would take care of itself, she was suddenly quite sure of that. Even the signs.

"All right then, then nothing changes! Everything is great! Everything stays the same!" There. Nearly all her frustration relieved at once, except of course for one more thing - "And you go unpack because it's been three days and it's driving me insane!"

Chandler threw up his hands as he turned to the door. "Jeez, relax! It's not like we're marr ah-ah!"

Oh yes, these constant slips of tongue, that was getting old really fast too. Monica bared her teeth at his retreating back in renewed frustration and slumped back on the couch, wincing as the pain in her foot flared again.

For a few seconds there was silence. And just as she was wondering what kept him in the hallway (and from unpacking), the door opened and Chandler came back, with his hands stuffed deeply into his pockets and a thoughtful expression on his face.

"You know, I was thinking, what if I, uh, unpack here?"

What was he talking about? "Then all your stuff would be here."

"Well … what if all my stuff was here?"

If he really was driving at something, it simply eluded her. For the life of her she couldn't comprehend what he meant, and it was making her nervous. Nothing changes, everything stays the same – hadn't they agreed on that?

"Then you'd be going back and forth all the time, I mean it doesn't make any sense."

Chandler took a deep breath, his expression becoming almost fatherly in his effort to get his point across.

"Okay ..! What if we **lived** together and **you** understand what I'm saying?"

Slowly it did dawn on her, and strangely enough, her first reaction was – well, not outright fear, but a sort of vaguely irritating uncertainty. And incredulity.

"Live together?" It sounded so strange as she repeated it after him. "There have been no signs for that…"

"Me asking is kind of a sign …" he pointed out, oh so calmly. And of course he was right. All of a sudden the whole beautiful truth of it hit home. This was it. The solution she had been looking for. The next step that needed to be taken to reach the next level of their relationship, to keep it going, to evolve into the next stage …

And he had suggested it. All by himself, he, Chandler, who wasn't her husband yet – but would be one day. Most definitely, without a doubt.

She had scrambled up the backrest of the couch without even noticing what she was doing, except that she wanted to get as close as she could to him, so she reached out for him, smiling widely as his expression turned from hopefully expectant to near unbelieving joy.

" **YES**!" she screamed in wild abandon, throwing herself at him like a monkey at the next tree and never doubting that he would catch her.

"Okay!" and of course he did, and quite neatly too, bending over and straightening up again before she had time to wonder if he was up to the strain and then wrapping his arms around her in a mighty bear hug as he kissed her wildly. She wanted to scream and jump with joy, join him in a victory dance, but of course this was much better, this perfect moment as they clung to each other so tight their breaths nearly failed them, and she could have sworn that somewhere near them a loud enthusiastic cheer was raised and swelled around them as they kept kissing each other over and over.


	23. Live Together

Chandler was firmly resolved to not let another stupid sign catch him unawares. The way they kept happening, always catching them off guard even though they were always on the lookout for them, was simply maddening. Absolutely intolerable. So far they had always managed to explain the signs away or simply ignore them, put up with them and carry on, but he could tell that the strain was beginning to tell on Monica. They had to do something about it. And soon too, before it could happen again. He'd rather that it wouldn't happen at all, or, if it did, that he'd be able to stop it or avert it somehow, but deep down he knew that it wouldn't work. The signs would continue to hit them quite happily and regularly until the moment they chose to do something about it.

Or at least talk about it.

It really was high time they did. Today was Wednesday and they'd been back from Vegas since Monday – actually the anniversary of their return to New York one year ago, when they'd decided to carry on with that crazy one night stand and take it further, first as a secret affair, then as a secret relationship which was eventually converted to an open one, a normal relationship (though he was never quite sure about the 'normal' part). And since then the signs merrily continued to hassle them no matter how far they'd left Vegas behind. Carrying Monica over the threshold in all innocence, getting showered with rice, his assistant asking him if he'd lost his wedding ring (he hadn't even dared to tell Monica about that one), and so on. He couldn't stand it any longer. Enough was enough. As soon as Monica came back from the bathroom and Rachel had finished with that flower bouquet and left them alone, he would have that talk with Monica. Even though now was probably not the best time for it, since she was still bugged and frustrated, and her foot was still hurting her. He was also pretty sure she was due to go on her period too quite soon. All that together could very probably result in his not getting any of that sumptuous plum cake that was still cooling on the kitchen table. Or even anything else. Still it just couldn't be delayed any longer. And if it turned out that talking about it and agreeing that neither of them wanted to get married was not enough and that to stop the signs from happening they actually did have to get married, well, so be it. Surely there were worse things than being married to Monica?

'How about having to divorce her?' Guy #1 said in his head and Chandler gritted his teeth. If there was anything worse than to constantly be exposed to those annoying signs, it must be those annoying voices in his head. Especially when they were right.

For the umpteenth time Chandler wished he hadn't suggested marriage in Vegas. It had been a wonderful idea, and carrying it out had been so crazily exciting and exhilarating, but after the shock of seeing Ross and Rachel doing it in their cups, it had felt like waking up from a dream. A beautiful and enjoyable dream, but nothing more. They had made it through one year by adhering to their baby steps program, and he would not risk everything they had gained in that one year for a crazy heat of the moment idea. It was too precious for that.

Here was Monica, heading for the kitchen while still favoring her bad foot, and Chandler took a deep breath, steeling himself for the talk. It would be dangerous, and risky, and he would have preferred to avoid it altogether, but he really, really, really didn't want another of those signs telling them what they should do - -

And then it happened again, right under his nose as he was watching and quite powerless to do something about it except staring slack-jawed and maybe flailing his arms around helplessly. Rachel had pricked her finger on a thorn and now jumped, reflexively tossing the bouquet over her shoulder and Monica, just as reflexively, not only caught it but went out of her way to do so, gracefully snatching the bouquet out of the air when it hadn't even begun its downward arc, for all the world like a wedding guest eager to be the next in line to get mar—oh for crying out loud.

"Enough already!" As she realized what she'd done Monica looked downright disgusted with herself, but Chandler could have sworn he'd also seen her smile in satisfaction about her dexterity.

"Well, you didn't have to catch them!" he spat, as much annoyed at himself as at her. Why hadn't he seen it coming? Rachel, newly-wed, holding flowers and Monica coming up from behind. How could he have been blind?

"Huh, that's funny." Rachel had recovered from her shock and was watching them with barely concealed glee. "You look like you're gonna be the - -"

"No, don't say it! Don't even think it!" Rachel's jaw dropped when Monica almost jumped at her. Chastened she snatched the flowers from her and then opted for a hasty retreat.

"Alright. Okay Chandler, enjoy your handful ..!"

He would have loved to leave too right then. Get out and don't return until the storm had blown out and the skies had cleared again. Time was he would have done that too, and never mind what that made him. The time before they'd got together. Since then he'd had to deal with everything life had thrown at them, crises, full blown fights, strain, arguments … And he always had. Somehow, he had dealt with it and they had survived. Why shouldn't they survive this time?

"All right, should we just, should we just get married? You know?" There it was, the elephant in the room, the thing they'd been furtively circling ever since they'd left the A Little White Chapel without getting married. "I mean should we just do it? All the signs are telling us to do it!"

Monica had returned to the sofa and was nursing her foot again.

"I'm sick of the signs!" she wailed. "It's too fast, I'm happy the way things are!"

"Me too!" Oh the relief. If only he'd known earlier that she felt the same way about it as he did…

"I don't want things to change! Do you?"

"No!"

Monica now crouched on the sofa, almost yelling at him in her relief. "All right then, then nothing changes! Everything is great! Everything stays the same!"

Except that was not quite all that he heard under her words. And so not what he wanted himself. No change? Everything as before, forever and always?

"And you go unpack because it's been three days and it's driving me insane!"

Okay, that was more like her. Chandler's reaction was as much pure reflex as her stab at nagging.

"Jeez, relax! It's not like we're mar-ah-ah!" He stormed out, completely unnerved all of a sudden. Jesus, those damn slips of the tongue they kept having, on top of all those stupid signs, would they stop too when the signs did? What if they wouldn't?

Then he found himself standing in the hallway, staring at the door of his apartment and feeling as if he had suddenly frozen to the spot.

Nothing changes. Everything stays the same.

But did it have to? Did it?

There had been a major change in his life one year ago. One year ago almost to the day he had stood here, on the very same spot, between their two apartments, wondering if it would really be right to go on with his life as before, pretending that nothing had happened. And somehow he'd found the strength to admit to himself that he didn't want that. That he wanted the change, needed it even. That going on as before was just not an option.

Yes, it was too soon to get married. It was just too big a step. But that didn't mean they had to stand still altogether.

He only realized that he had turned around and re-entered the apartment when Monica looked at him, her expression still wary, as if she half expected him to flat out refuse to unpack. Just like one year ago when she'd turned to him, expectant and yet guarded …

"You know, I was thinking - what if I uh, unpack here?!"

Now she looked confused. "Then all your stuff would be here."

"Well, what if all my stuff was here?"

She frowned impatiently. "Then you'd be going back and forth all the time, I mean it doesn't make any sense."

He'd expected her to be quicker on the uptake, but maybe this was just too big a concept, too unexpected. But no matter.

"Okay. What if we lived together and you understand what I'm saying?"

"Live together?" she repeated, sounding very uncertain. Almost scared in fact. "There have been no signs for that…"

Good lord, did they need signs now for everything? And suddenly it hit him. Of course not. They needed to make their own signs now.

"Me asking is kind of a sign…" he said as gently as he could. And watched her expression change, very gradually, from confusion to still tentative belief and then overwhelming joy as she got to her feet on the sofa and reached out for him.

" **YES**!" And she jumped at him from the couch just like that, trusting him to catch her, which he did too, unthinkingly, hardly noticing when he almost doubled over from her weight.

"Okay!"

Then she was in his arms, clutching him in a death grip with her arms and legs wrapped tightly around him and he was hugging her to him so hard he could feel her heart hammer under her ribs. When he kissed her he could feel her laughing breathlessly and sniffing from tears at the same time. He wanted the moment to never end, to hold her until they both crumpled to a pathetic heap on her sacred kitchen floor, but all too soon she let him go to stand on her own feet again, her hands still cradling his face.

"Yes! Yes! Okay! Okay! Wait-wait-wait!" she couldn't stand still, almost hopping in place as she tried to process everything his question entailed, her eyes shining madly.

"Okay!"

Monica suddenly darted to the counter and rummaged in the drawer. "Here's your key! Here's your key!"

Right. A key. Why hadn't he thought of that before?

"Oh thanks."

"All right, you have to christen it! Now, go out and come back in!"

Right, because it was so symbolic, if nothing else. "The door hasn't been locked in five years, but okay!" But she was already pushing him out of the door and shutting it, so he could open it. With his own new key no less.

"Ready?!"

He heard her engage the lock. "Ready!" And he turned the key. There was an ominous crack and then he suddenly had half a key in his hand while the other half –

"Okay, a little problem. The key broke in the lock and I can't get in!"

And it had started so well. He heard her try the lock and rattle it in frustration.

"Wait! Oh my God! I can't get out!"

What the hell was going on here?

"This is not a sign!" It had better not be one.

"No, it's not a sign! It's a very old key!" Now she sounded almost desperate. But she was right, now that he looked at the broken off half of the key he could see that it must have been positively ancient.

"It's an old key!"

"Oh my God it's old!" And now she sounded kind of forlorn. And uncertain too. He needed to cheer her up or at least try to, even with the closed door between them.

"I love you!"

Apparently that had been the right thing to say because she said it right back. "Aw, I love you!"

If only he could hug her to him right now, hold her close. She needed that, he could feel it, right through that stupid door between them that was keeping them apart. Maybe if they both pressed close to the door?

"Are you hugging the door right now?"

There was a pause and Chandler realized he'd overshot the mark in his sentimentality.

"No..." Not sentimental at all and suddenly he felt rather ridiculous.

"Yeah-yeah, me neither..!" he assured her hastily while he got up from the floor again and pulled himself together.

"I'm gonna call Treeger!" Monica announced, practical as always and Chandler winced. That florid, blustering super with his leering remarks was the last person he wanted to see right now. Maybe if he tried to get the door open with his credit card? It always worked in all those TV shows, so why not here?

Except the lock wouldn't budge, not matter how hard he tried to wiggle the card around in the crack. Apparently it didn't accept American Express. Or any credit card. Maybe he should try his gym membership card? That was as good a way as any to finally rid of it.

"What are you doing?" Joey asked, startling him almost into dropping the card.

"The key's stuck in the lock."

"I can fix it. Hold on." Chandler hated the thought of Joey succeeding where he had failed and continued to jiggle his card in the lock, until Joey returned with a screwdriver and a rather smug expression on his face that Chandler hated even more. When Joey elbowed him aside and started to pry at the door he found himself hoping that he wouldn't succeed. When his roommate straightened up again after only the merest wiggle, Chandler tried the door. To his surprise it still didn't give.

"It still doesn't work."

"I'm not finished…!" Joey replied somewhat impatiently and Chandler realized he hated looking like a fool as much as he did. Probably more.

Joey headed back into #19 again, to fetch another tool as Chandler surmised, but no, it was really just to get a running start and throw himself against the door with full force. It worked too, after a fashion – with its hinges broken right off the door crashed into the apartment right in front of Monica who was standing at the counter and could only stare speechlessly as Joey scrambled up again triumphantly.

"Nice job Joe!" Chandler said wearily. "You're quite the craftsman!"

Joey just smirked and patted him amicably as he headed back to #19, with the air of a job well done.

"But ... but I already called Treeger!" Monica wailed, finding her voice again. Joey on the point of shutting the door to his room suddenly froze in his tracks, his eyes widening, and then came rushing out again.

"Treeger? You called Treeger? Why didn't you tell me?"

Chandler shrugged helplessly. "Guess you were too fast for me."

"Nononono!" Joey darted back to the broken door to check the damage on the jamb. "Um, could you just tell him it was burglars?"

"Sure. They crashed the door and after stealing our privacy they left again, through the fire escape maybe. Right. No problem."

"The fire escape!" Joey's eyes lit up. "You're a genius, man!"

"Wait, Joey, no, I've put some towels out to dr- oh my god!"

But Joey had already made his escape, taking half the towels on Monica's clothesline with him. Monica checked the damage and raised her arms heavenward.

"Why? Why is all this happening to us?" When Chandler put his arms around her from behind she whirled around and pushed her clenched fists against his chest. "Why?"

"Sh. Sh. It's over, don't you see? Joey ended it. The door was their last shot and Joey broke it. Now we're free!"

"Really?"

"Yes!" He felt on a roll now. "All the bad things happening, they're done with! Banished from our lives forever! We can start over!"

"Oh my god, you're right!" Monica threw her arms around his neck. "The curse is broken!"

"Literally broken" he agreed, feeling almost giddy with relief. "And we didn't even need to call an exorcist!"

She laughed and pulled down his head to kiss him, but then hesitated, her lips inches from his. "But are you sure?"

"That there'll be no more signs? Of cou-"

"No! About moving in with me. Live here with me."

Chandler stared. "Of course I'm sure. Who wouldn't want to live with you?"

"But … what if – "

"If you clean too much? Or nag me?"

"What if we fight?" her voice suddenly sounded quite small.

"So we fight. What's the big deal? We have fought before, you know."

"Yes, but then you didn't live here."

"There's always the couch, I guess." He grinned wryly. "Or Joey's couch." When she still didn't seem convinced he tightened his arms around her. "We'll find a way. We've been doing this for one year now. We're good at this!"

At this her face lit up and she pumped her fist in the air. "You're right! We are good at this!" And suddenly she pressed against him, almost trying to climb up his chest until he lifted her up with his arms under her thighs and buttocks while she wrapped her legs around him. He wasn't sure if he could make it all the way to the bedroom and decided to aim for the couch first, carrying her over and dropping on it heavily, while they still clung to each other –

"My, my, look at that! In quite a hurry, were you? Forgot that the door was there, did you?"

Oh god, he had completely forgotten about Treeger who had arrived at last, resplendent in shiny new blue overalls and toting his giant toolbox. Chandler for once could only gape at the super like an idiot while Monica hurriedly got up.

"Oh thank you for coming! You see, the key broke in the lock and –"

"Yeah, so you said. But you didn't say the door was broken down." The super unhurriedly eyed the damaged door jamb. "Neat job too. Come to think of it, it looks more like Tribbiani did that. He still around?"

"Um …"

"If you see him, you might want to tell him –"

"Can you fix it?" Monica cut in briskly and when Treeger dubiously wagged his head, "I'll throw in some of that cake!"

Chandler groaned.

.

Much later that evening – or night rather – they were finally alone again. Alone together after Treeger had fixed the door and installed a makeshift bolt in place of the broken lock, and then finally left after devouring nearly half of Monica's cake; alone after Joey who'd been dying for a guy's night with Die Hard and pizza at their place had successfully been fobbed off and sent to the movies with Rachel instead, thereby killing two birds with one stone. Now all that remained was to somehow entice Monica away from vacuuming the floor and cleaning every single spot where Treeger had worked and left his marks, however invisible to the naked eye they might be. She had to be on her third round if he was any judge and the way she was going it looked like it would take her all night if he didn't stop her.

Stopping her would require a good deal of finesse though. Plus a few good solid convincing arguments. A bit of caution too. And a plan B too possibly. But if done right, there was a chance – a good chance even – that he might succeed.

So he approached her carefully, putting on his most casual air.

"Ummm … hey, roomie …!"

"Huh? Oh, could you get me that other nozzle with the brush?"

"Oh, sure. That one?" As he handed it to her, he let his hand rest on the small of her back, gently brushing up and down.

"Yeah – I'll be done soon. Why don't you watch TV?"

"But I'd rather watch you. Roomie."

"What?" When he put his arms around her, she tried to wiggle out again. "What do you mean –"

"Sh. I really think you've done all you can – with artificial light I mean. I think …" and he squinted at the door critically "yes, I think that for that final finishing touch you really need daylight."

That actually made her hesitate and Chandler mentally patted himself on the shoulder.

"You're sure?" Now she frowned and thoughtfully chewed her lower lip.

"Yes!" he said firmly. "And you need to be rested for it. To have a good night's sleep."

For a moment she seemed to waver, but then she pouted and Chandler groaned inwardly. "But I can't sleep when the job's not finished!"

Alright, plan B. Chandler pulled her close and kissed her on the neck, almost desperate by now.

"We're going to live together!"

"Yes, I know, but …"

"Live together. Alone. Together. You and me. Nobody else but us. Here in this apartment. As a happy couple." For a horrible moment he'd thought he'd said 'married couple' but to his utmost relief that stupid slip of the tongue thing seemed to be over too, and none too soon.

Monica opened her mouth, but no sound came out and Chandler hurriedly brought out his clincher.

"Starting today. As of now."

"But we're not yet –"

"Now. Now's a good time as any, isn't it? Or don't you want to anymore?"

"Of course I do!" Now her gaze softened. "Oh my god, you're right! Yes! We're going to live together!"

He kissed the top of her head, letting his lips wander down her cheek and further down to her neck.

"Yeah, we are. All the time. And we're going to be happy together too."

"You bet we'll be!" Now her eyes were shining and she snuggled against him. "My god, we'll be so happy!"

"And we'll be able to do as we please all the time, because we'll be alone in this apartment, once Rachel has moved out."

"Right, but –"

"So why don't we, you know, rehearse? I mean, see what it will be like?"

"Now? But …"

"Before Rachel gets back would be good too." Monica's eyes widened.

"Oh god, what time is it? Okay, can you help me to put this away?"

"Why don't you leave it? Then you can take up again where you left off. Tomorrow. With daylight." Chandler turned off the light switch and then stooped a little to sweep her up in his arms. "After."

"After what?" she inquired playfully as he hefted her up and carried her bodily through the living room.

"After our first sex as a shacked-up couple."

Her eyes sparkled. "And…?"

"And a good night's sleep."

"And …?"

"After our showering together for the first time after we decided to live together?"

"Oh my. And?"

"More? You want more?" Chandler sighed theatrically. "Alright, how about pancakes from your live-in boyfriend?"

"Oooh. But you have to –"

"- clean the pan after. And the stove. I know. I will." They had arrived at her bedroom door and he carried her to the bed, kicking the door shut with the ease of long practice. When he put her down on the bed Monica tightened her grip around his shoulders and drew his head down to kiss him.

"YES!" she whispered, softly and yet fiercely. "Yes, yes, and yes!"

He had pushed up her shirt and chemise to kiss the skin over her stomach and ribs and suck at her nipples after loosening her bra, and now he raised his head to smile at her tenderly.

"You can be as loud as you like, you know. I mean, now, and when we live together …"

She grinned back, her hands already busy on his pants and the buttons of his shirt, and then took a deep breath and let out an almost fearsome yell. "YES!"

"Alright!" he shouted back and pushed her further up on the bed so he could scramble up and lie on top of her. Dimly he felt her legs wrapping around his middle and her hips grinding at his where his erection already strained against the fabric of his pants. Then she drew his head down to hers almost forcefully and her next scream was stifled by their kiss.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

A/N: *sigh* I guess that's it after all. I still feel there should be one more chapter in Monica's POV, just to make it even (I'm big on balance I guess), but for the life of me I can't think of anything I could add that would fill a whole chapter without using stuff that really needs to be in the next series, and to somehow cobble a small epilogue together just for the purpose of getting another chapter in Monica's POV seems so – silly. And futile too. So I'm putting the break in here at this point, and start the next series in Monica's POV. And who knows, maybe I'll manage a standalone about this very point in their relationship some day. After all, it is one of the most important turning points for them.

Thanks are in order again, for all you awesome people here who talked to me, and/or kept reviewing and favoring/following me, or even just showing me through the traffic stats that my chapters were read every day all over the world, thereby making it interesting and worthwhile for me to keep on writing this. So foremost and especially big thanks to Starbuckmeggie, Chrisi2503, Itsafour, Simplymondler, Fafsernir, SupernaturalMondler, MondlerFanKay, Matteney and last but of course not least Fictionwriter91, and all the others I didn't mention, thank you so much, it's really a great pleasure doing this for you!


End file.
